


Follow Me into Black Water

by vivilove



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: About half the listed characters are on Jon's list, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternative Westeros, And it's not a good list to be on, Cousins, Dark Jon Snow, Dark Sansa, Domestic Violence, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gallows Humor, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Murder, Post-Resurrection Jon Snow, Revenge, Robb and Sansa were the only Starklings, Shapeshifting, Soulmates, Southern Gothic Vibes, Spells & Enchantments, Violence, Warging, has a rather off-kilter moral compass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2019-08-01 04:02:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 80,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16277432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: Blackwater Bayou seems like a nice enough place just like Joffrey had appeared once upon a time. But under the gentile façade there’s corruption.  Trapped in an abusive marriage to the alcoholic, pill-popping sheriff’s son who is also a cop, Sansa turns to the old gods for help.  She’d heard there was once magic in the blood of the First Men and with an old book of spells and in her desperation, she begs for a protector to help her escape her violent husband.  Instead, they send an avenger…Jon Snow knows a lot about the magic of the First Men but, tormented by his desire for his cousin Sansa, he left home to serve the Nights Watch six years ago. He had no idea everything would turn to shit for the Starks as soon as he swore his vows though.  Murdered by his own men six years later, he finds himself unexpectedly returned from the dead.  With a somewhat skewed moral compass and a new purpose in his life, he returns to the bayou to find Sansa…and kill everyone who’s ever wronged her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kittykatknits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittykatknits/gifts).



> PLEASE HEED THE TAGS AND ANY NOTES AT THE START OF CHAPTERS! This story will include some mentions of Domestic Violence that could certainly be disturbing and later Jon will be committing murder. If that's something that makes you too uncomfortable to enjoy the story, go ahead and hit that back button now. 
> 
> It's been a while since I wrapped up my vampire tale and I've been missing my sweet dark monster Jon so I started this a while back and am posting it in time for Halloween. So have a little tale of sweet Jonsa loving with a side of murder and mayhem and a bit of Southern/Cajun flair. 
> 
> Thank you Lisa for the gorgeous mood board!
> 
> And a big thanks to Natalie for reading all that's been written so far and keeping me encouraged!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter gives Sansa's situation. Jon will appear next chapter.

 

 

 

 _‘When I grow up, I want to be a battered wife,’_ said no little girl ever.

Sansa Stark had never uttered those words in her life and yet here she was, twenty-two years old and wearing the wedding band Joffrey had given her along with the bruises hiding under her long-sleeved blouse.

It’s easy for folks to make judgments from the outside. It’s even easier to pretend not to see when it’s not happening to you or someone you care about.

But, leaving is often far more complicated than grabbing a bag and walking out a door and is doubly so when your abuser is also a cop, the son of the sheriff and the grandson of the wealthiest man in all of Blackwater Bayou.

Sometimes, when there’s no safe haven for you to run to, you’re forced to do what you must to survive. You learn to smile back at all the folks who smile at you and ignore your black eye. You learn to keep your head down and pray he won’t be so angry tonight.

The physical abuse hadn’t begun until after they’d been married around three months. That was the first and only night Sansa had tried to claim a headache when Joffrey wanted sex.

_“Oh, your head hurts, does it?”_

She would never forget the way his emerald green eyes had glittered so dangerously or how he’d stalked across the room towards her.

The mental abuse however, the tearing down of her self-esteem and destruction of her faith, that had been going on since the beginning.

But it had been subtle…oh, so subtle.

“How do you boil a frog, class?” Mr. Baelish had asked once when she was still a bright-eyed girl, eager to please her elders and so very naïve.

“Little by little. Otherwise, he'd hop out right away.  But if the water is just warm at first, the frog doesn’t mind it. Then, you start to kick up the fire and things are heating up but the frog is not aware. He keeps floating along, never realizing that things are getting too hot.”

“That’s right, Miss Stark. You’re such a clever girl. Class, I hope you’re paying attention to Miss Stark. We’re going to see great things from her, I believe. Which reminds me…I have a special project I think you’d enjoy. Come see me after class.”

_My first monster._

Petyr Baelish…he’d been a slippery one. He’d been a friend of her mother’s, he’d said. He’d only meant to comfort a poor orphan girl, he’d claimed. How her skin crawled whenever she’d run into him at the market or sept these days.

Most batterers aren’t monsters day in and day out. Certainly not from the start. No, this variety of monster exists in everyday circumstances. They don’t wear signs or anything. They might be considered pillars of one’s community; successful businessmen, school teachers, law enforcement officers, members of the faith or just all-around good old boys.

They can start off quite charming. Perhaps they’re handsome enough to turn a girl’s head or even appear sweet and thoughtful as they memorize your routines and suggest improvements you might make to your appearance.

That’s how it had been with Joffrey.

Even when Sansa had begun to see the truth that’d been lurking beneath the surface all along, it was hard to give up hope straight away. It’s a facet of human nature to try and cling to hope in the face of adversity after all. She’d lost her family so young, all except Jon who was far away.  She’d thought she couldn’t lose him, too.

Where had that handsome and charming prince of hers run off to? Surely, he was still there. This was a passing madness, a phase or something. Sometimes, he would be kind…a little bit kind anyway and show her glimmers of that charmer she’d known. So many ladies in town envied Sansa Baratheon. How could they envy her if he wasn’t as perfect as he appeared?

She thought her Joffrey was just in hiding behind this strange mask and would return. But, she soon realized that the man who would bloody her lip if dinner wasn’t ready when he came home was the only Joffrey that had ever existed. It was the rest of it that had been a mask.

 

* * *

 

  
The Starks had lived in Winter’s Hollow where Sansa was born to the north of Blackwater Bayou for centuries. They were descendants of the First Men it was said and followed the old gods and the old ways. Sansa’s mother had followed the new gods and encouraged her daughter to do the same. So, while Robb and Jon had followed Daddy and Uncle Benjen out into the woods and swamps as boys, Sansa had followed her mother to the sept and wore her pretty dresses to sing and enjoy the pageantry amongst the incense and ornate stained-glass windows.

It would be a couple of years after her parents had died in a single-car accident when she was sixteen and Robb had been killed in a hold-up one night soon afterwards that Sansa had completely turned away from the new gods and began to seek the old ones.

Jon had been newly joined to the Watch where Uncle Benjen had once served. Their uncle had died the previous year and the two of them were left without anyone to manage things on their behalf.

Jon had come home for the funerals and tried to help her wade through the legalities and paperwork. It had made no more sense to him than it had to her.

He’d urged her to move up close to where he was stationed at Castle Black. But it had sounded so dismal up there and all her friends had been here. Instead, she’d accepted the kind offer of Mrs. Baratheon to stay with her family while she tried to readjust to the nightmare that wouldn't end.

“You don’t have to stay with them,” Jon had said the night before he was to return north. “You’re my family, Sansa, the only family either of us has left now. You’re always gonna be my family. I’ll look after you. The Lannisters are…Uncle Ned would…”

“That’s very sweet of you, Jon,” she’d said, cutting his flow, “but I’ll be fine with the Baratheons while I finish school. Maybe after, I’ll move up your way.”

But she had had no intention of doing so. Jon was very dear to her but he’d grown strangely sullen and withdrawn the past year or so around her. Of course, her cousin had always been quieter and more introspective than she was but before he’d left for the Watch, it was like he couldn’t stand being in the same room with her. Perhaps his mama dying so young and then Uncle Benjen’s hunting accident had made him old before his time.

Cersei Lannister Baratheon had been the opposite of sullen and withdrawn. She was an elegant lady who had been so attentive and kind during Sansa’s period of grieving. Her younger children were sweet. And she had introduced Sansa to her oldest son when he’d visited from college. Sansa had thought him quite charming when she’d met him.

Sansa had been flattered by the attention she’d received, sitting on Cersei’s wide veranda as they were served tea and fancy little iced cakes and kept company with the other fine ladies of Blackwater Bayou. Her mama had been a fine lady too but nowhere near as fashionable and Daddy hadn’t cared much for entertaining beyond the Reeds, the Umbers and some of the other less cultured folks who lived up in Winter’s Hollow.

But at the Baratheons’ manse and wearing a pretty grey silk dress that Mrs. Baratheon had selected…it had all made Sansa feel so grown up and sophisticated.

She’d been so helpful, too.

_“My father’s quite good with money, Little Dove. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind helping you sort all these complicated matters with your parents’ affairs.”_

What a fool she’d been signing documents no sixteen year old should be allowed to sign. But everyone knew everyone in Blackwater Bayou and no one ever told Tywin Lannister no.

Living with the Baratheon’s had sounded like an ideal arrangement compared to freezing to death in rented rooms near Castle Black where Jon might be on duty nine days out of ten. And though Jon and Robb had been thick as thieves throughout their boyhood, Sansa knew he’d never quite seen her as a sister, no more than she’d looked at him as another older brother. She’d feared he might grow to regret his offer if she went north with him.  

How she wished she could go back in time and shout at her younger self to pack her bags and follow Jon north when she’d had the chance.

 

* * *

 

 

Her decision to start following the old gods…it was a rebellion of sorts. Well, it would be if Joffrey knew of it. He called her family heathens who prayed to trees, worshipped wolves and made blood sacrifices.

_He’s not completely wrong but we are not heathens and there is magic and power in our beliefs and practices._

It was true. The older folks would tell stories of the men who had fought and later made peace with the Children of the Forest. There were legends of those who could command packs of wolves and even myths about men who could become wolves themselves. Many of them were believed to be the first of the Starks.

Most people these days said those stories were nothing but make-believe but Sansa recalled her father and uncle’s wolf tattoos. Robb and Jon had received their own when they’d turned sixteen. At the time, Sansa had thought it some sort of macho expression of toughness but when she’d asked her father, he’d told her it was a sacred vow, a covenant of sorts that certain followers of the old gods would make.

Sansa had no tattoo. She’d made no vow or covenant. She was just a battered woman, hoping to escape.

It wasn’t until she’d received the book that Sansa began to hope she might have found a way out...

 

“Get up, you old cunt,” Officer Trant snarled at the homeless woman sitting on the sidewalk outside the station.

“What if I don’t?” the woman asked in a strange croaking voice.

Sansa had been outside enjoying the cool, evening breeze but she ducked her head and started inside when she saw that trouble loomed. The old woman would be best to move on. Trant was one of the worst of them. Without warning, the officer kicked her with his steel-toed boot.

“Stop it!” Sansa gasped. “You can’t do that!”

Trant gave her an incredulous look and she felt dizzy with fear. Trant was one of Joffrey’s favorites. Joffrey wouldn’t care if he’d kicked some vagrant. No one else who mattered would either. What if he said something to Joffrey?

“You’re the Stark girl, aren’t you?” the old woman asked then.

“I’m Sansa Baratheon now.” _But I am still a Stark._

“Wolf girl.”

“I’m no wolf.”

“Not now…but maybe.”

_I could be? Maybe?_

Sansa shook her head at the woman and Trant walked away laughing that Sansa could take her home and bake her cakes if she liked.

“You're Ned Stark’s daughter, right?”

“Yes.”

The old woman cackled then. She was quite hideous though it would be very unkind to say so. “Oh? Ain’t I a beauty?”

“Of course, you are,” Sansa stammered, wondering how she could’ve known her thoughts. “There’s more than one sort of beauty to be found in folks.” That only made the woman laugh harder.

“Come here, girl. Don’t fear, Old Maggy. I’ve something that might interest you,” she said, rifling through her plastic shopping bags that were torn but filled with her belongings.

She needed to clock back in. Joffrey would know if she took more than her allotted fifteen minute break. Trant would be wondering why she’d stayed. But the woman was intent on her search. It would be rude to walk away.

“I can’t stay. They’re expecting me back. If you need…” She reached into her back pocket.

She had a little money on her that night for a change. Joffrey had said she could buy a soda. She’d thanked him prettily and silently resented that he’d reduced her to begging for pocket change like a child.

Maggy stared at the money and shook her head sadly.  “Your heart's still...keep your coins, girl. Here, take this.” 

The book she gave her was old, heavy and leather bound. It looked like it belonged in a museum. But when Sansa read the title, she knew no museum around these parts held these sorts of books. The Faith would not hear of it.

_‘Spells and Practices of the Old Gods’_

“I…I don’t know what to…”

“Wolf girl,” Maggy said again before she shuffled off with her torn plastic bags and mismatched shoes.

Wordlessly, Sansa slipped the book under her shirt and swiftly returned to her desk. Once inside, she shoved it into her purse. All night as she worked, she feared that the book would be discovered by someone even though she didn’t know why anyone would care. Just having it filled her with disquiet but also with curiosity.

She patiently waited till she was home the next morning and Joffrey had left for work before pouring over the pages.  She tested out some of the ancient verses under her breath. Some of them sounded like a song. Others were more like a threat.

With her eyes burning from lack of sleep and knowing the laundry waited, she spent three hours with the book, memorizing sections and creating melodies in her head to fit the words around. It was ridiculous. There was no other explanation. She’d wind up sorry she’d wasted the time.

But something about the book and the images made her feel empowered when she’d brush her fingers along the crinkled pages. The words stirred memories of things she’d thought she’d lost. It made her feel connected to her past and her family as well. She gave thanks to the old gods for putting the woman in her path that day.

And one spell in particular called to her. Sansa kept the book hidden and waited for the day to come when she’d be crazy or brave enough to use it.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joffrey wants a son. Sansa dreams about a long ago summer night and later decides to act. Jon Snow wakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning-there's a very upsetting 9-1-1 call Sansa answers in this chapter.

 

Joffrey had said he wanted a son. He’d thrown out her birth control just the other day. At first, she’d been cautiously optimistic.

_If I give him a son, he’ll love me better. He won’t beat me if I’m carrying his child, will he?_

She tried not to think what Joffrey might do if she gave him a daughter.

But this morning, when she’d come home from the night shift, he’d slapped her for no reason at all. Just because he could. She had to stop lying to herself. It was never going to get any better.

After he’d left for patrol, Sansa had laid in their bed, grateful to have the house to herself and tried to formulate a plan. Her parents and older brother were dead as well as her uncle. There was no other close family.

_Except Jon._

But Jon was up north with the Watch, bound by his oath for another two years. Where could she go?

When met with the dismal reply, Sansa resigned herself to get some sleep at least. She closed her eyes and hoped to dream of happier days when she’d been too foolish to appreciate all they’d had. In dreams at least, she could recall what happiness was.

Today, she dreamt of Robb and Jon and a sultry summer night…

 

_Robb and Jon were taking her swimming in the lake tonight. She was fourteen now and she’d asked them where they went at night when they snuck out. They’d tried to put her off. Robb said they met girls down at the drive-in to kiss but Jon had told him not to tell lies. With enough pouting, she’d got her way at last._

_Lonely Lake was not much of a lake but the only one they had in Winter’s Hollow. At least, it wasn’t infested with the lizard-lions that lived in Blackwater Bayou. And, the boys liked to go swimming on summer nights apparently. She’d expected something more exciting._

_But, Mama had said swimming down at Lonely Lake was dangerous, the water was so black that none could see a foot in front of them under the surface. And swimming at night would be doubly forbidden. So, Sansa had crept out the backdoor with her brother and cousin, smothering her giggles as they raced through the woods together, enjoying the heady rush of breaking one of Mama’s rules for a change._

_“I don’t know if we should’ve brought her tonight, Robb. The full moon ain’t far off,” Jon commented when they reached the water’s edge._

_“They won’t hurt us. She’s with us.”_

_“Who won’t hurt us?” Sansa asked fearfully. Suddenly, her decision to join them didn’t seemed so wise._

_“Nobody, Little Sister,” Robb laughed before he pulled his shirt over his head and jumped in with his shorts still on. He whooped and hollered when his head popped back up from the black water and he asked if they were both ‘fraidy cats._

_“We ain’t,” Jon scowled. “Come on, Sansa.” He yanked off his own shirt and Sansa wondered when he’d got so many muscles. He held out his hand to her with a lopsided grin on his face. He was stupidly handsome and she shouldn’t care. He was just Jon. “We ain’t ‘fraidy cats, right?”_

_“No…but are you sure nothing’s gonna hurt us, Jon?”_

_“Nah. Robb and I are here with you.”_

_“Alright. Turn around.”_

_He nodded and did as she said before she carefully removed her sneakers, shorts and top. Wearing only her bra and panties, she nervously pulled her hair forward over her breasts. Jon was her cousin but he was a boy and not the same as Robb._

_Jon seemed to sense when she was ready…or had he peeked? Why did she kind of hoped he had?_

_He offered her his hand. It was rougher than hers and warm. Jon’s skin was always so warm. He grinned at her again, the white of his teeth bright in the darkness and she wanted to start giggling again for some reason._

_“Follow me,” he said before leading her by the hand into the water._

_Her bare feet went from the soft grass to the softer, squishier mud. She wrinkled her nose to think of it getting between her toes and heard Jon’s chuckle. Occasionally, there were stones along the lake bed that might trip the unprepared but Jon held her hand, keeping her steady until the water was deep enough for her to swim._

_The water was cool but not too cool. It was pleasant compared to the stagnant heat that surrounded them day and night this time of year. The waxing gibbous moon gave them plenty of light on the surface but below it was like there was nothing around them. The water could be five feet deep or fifty for all she knew. Sansa floated on her back for a bit and stared up at the moon and stars. The heavens above were timeless compared to little old her. It was strangely comforting. All her worries faded away._

_Jon swam over to her and floated beside her for a time then they started treading water and talking some, not about anything much, just school and he talked about maybe joining the Watch when he finished. She hated to think of him leaving but it wasn’t her place to tell Jon what to do. And she shouldn’t be feeling so quivery in the water next to him. It wasn’t that cool. She bit her lip to keep from prattling away with her nerves. She felt warm under her skin, almost hot but she was shivering._

_“You cold?” he asked with his dark curls sticking to his neck and forehead._

_“No.” He smirked at her. “Maybe a little.”_

_“I could…” He trailed off and his brow furrowed. Whatever he could do, he didn’t say so they kept treading water as Robb laughed and splashed them some._

_Did they always do this when they snuck out? Or did they really go meet girls some nights? She didn’t like to think about them meeting girls. Robb because it was gross to think of her brother kissing some girl and Jon because…because she didn’t want him kissing some girl._

_“Which star’s your favorite?” Jon asked pointing up above._

_“I dunno. I don’t know the stars that well. Do you?”_

_“Yeah. Your daddy taught us all about them. I could teach you.”_

_“I’d like for you to teach me,” she said breathlessly and wondered what she’d really like for him to teach her._

_His eyes were dark like onyx when she looked back at him again. Had she said something wrong? Did he hear the subtle plea in her tone?_

_But before Jon could teach her anything about the stars, Robb declared a war and started splashing something fierce. The three of them laughed and splashed like little children till the moon had started to sink low and there was a howling heard further off._

_“Time to go,” Robb said. Her brother’s tone frightened her. All his playfulness from earlier had fled. He sounded like Daddy._

_“Why?”_

_“Come on,” Jon said gruffly as he tugged at her hand._

_They were all still dripping wet and Sansa had barely managed to pull on her clothes when they’d told her they had to go right now. She stumbled along following Jon and Robb through the woods back home. The low-hanging moss kept brushing the top of her head and sometimes her shoulders, making her jumpy. The howling grew closer and Robb sent them on ahead, saying he’d follow._

_“Are we gonna be in trouble?”_

_“Not if we get you home quick,” Jon said as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her along more quickly. It was almost like flying, he seemed to move so swift. He smelled good but musky. His arms were strong and his hair was wet and still clinging to his neck. He had a scruff of a beard growing. He was…_

 

Sansa awoke from the dream with a start. She felt frustrated…and wet. She allowed her hand to slide down into her panties, wondering if her period had come early. It hadn’t. She was aroused. She wiped her fingers on a tissue and wondered what had come over her. That had been so long ago, the night she’d first felt such a keening ache on the cusp of womanhood.

_And Jon had been the reason._

She glanced at the clock. 2:12PM. She’d slept away so much of her day. She’d have to hurry to get her house work done before Joffrey came home.

 

* * *

 

 

A stitch was already developing in her side as she ran from the utilitarian, cinderblock government building after darkness had fallen over Blackwater Bayou the following night. She couldn’t risk being gone too long or he might find out and ask why she’d left work on her lunchbreak. She wasn’t allowed to go anywhere for lunch. She was expected to stay on premises and eat the lunch she’d pack herself every afternoon before he drove her to work.

Her job filled a needed role she told herself but it was not what she had dreamed of doing back in school. Joffrey’s father had given her the job after Joffrey had said she was too stupid to find anything else. That wasn’t true of course. He’d never let her work anywhere that he couldn’t have complete control over her comings and goings…and income.

Trant was on duty tonight, lounging around the station, his eyes always coming back to where she sat. She was reckless to try this but she knew the old gods had spoken to her through that call tonight. What else could explain her decision to bring the book along with her tonight? The full moon was calling to her after the telephone call that had set her feet into motion as sure as it had her pulse to racing.

_“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”_

The little girl was only six. Getting the story out of her had been difficult but Sansa had a way with children. Mama’s ex-boyfriend had shown up at their house. Sansa could hear the raised voices in the background as she tried her best to keep the child calm while she dispatched a unit to investigate a possible domestic disturbance on the other side of town.

But then, she’d heard the gunshots, the screams and then silence.

 _“Barra?”_ she’d croaked through her headset. _“Are you…”_

A frighteningly calm little voice had replied, _“He shot her. He shot my mama. He shot her in the head. My mama’s dead.”_

As an emergency dispatcher Sansa had heard plenty of awful things but that call had left her shaken worse than all the rest combined. Her heart was fluttering in her chest as she listened, impotent and useless, as someone else’s nightmare unfolded on the other end of the telephone line. Tears streaked her face. Sansa knew she had to find a way to escape or she’d wind up like the dead mother someday.

She reached the edge of the bayou that was close to a mile from work on foot. Her hair was plastered to her forehead. Anyone would wonder what she’d been up to. She’d never make it back in her allotted thirty minute lunch time if she didn’t run but her whole body was already complaining from the run just to get here.

At the water’s edge stood one of the old trees, a Weirwood, as big around as a small car and fifty feet tall. In its trunk, a face had been carved once long ago. It was still recognizable. A solemn-looking visage that leaked red sap onto the white bark. There had been one on the Stark lands, too. Her daddy and uncle had always called it the Heart Tree. There was no way she could make it to that tree though so she told herself this one would do.

The frogs were croaking all around her and the cicadas were kicking up a racket like usual. She hoped no lizard-lions would make a snack of her as she knelt in the muck at the tree’s base. How she would ever explain the stains on her blue jeans, she was not sure.

“Help me,” she whispered to the tree. “Help me get away. Help me escape this town and my marriage and see to it that Joffrey will never hurt me again.”

Those were not the words though. She nervously looked around as the frogs and chorus of the insects quieted. She felt foolish and more than a little afraid. What would her mother think of this?

She started to rise but a lone wolf’s cry made her pause. She listened to the lonesome sound which was echoed by another one, nearer. Perhaps she should be afraid. Wolves had been known to attack men in the not so distant past. But, she was not afraid. _Wolf girl._ Their mournful cries emboldened her.

Sansa pulled out the book and recalled her girlish delight in the stories of knights and protectors of fair maidens. She looked at the tree and spoke again. This time she did not whisper.

“Send me someone to help. A protector. Send me a true knight,” she said before she repeated the ancient incantation written on the page she’d marked so carefully.

Behind her, she heard the wolf howl again and the wind kicked up.

 _Brave. You can be brave,_ she told herself.

She glanced back down at the book and kept reading but the words sounded funny now. This was not the passage she’d read over so many times. This was one of the verses that sounded more like a song.

A twig snapped behind her and she turned. She gasped when she saw yellow glowing eyes staring at her in the dark. The creature stalked forward…a wolf. Its grey fur shimmered like silver in the moonlight. She should be terrified. Perhaps she should scream but she didn’t. The wolf sniffed the air around them and lowered her head.

_She won’t hurt me._

She wasn’t sure how she knew the wolf was female but she did.

The incantation was not enough. Sansa knew what the old gods demanded as payment to complete the spell but she had no knife.

“Help me, please,” she begged the wolf, holding out her arm.

 

* * *

 

 

Jon Snow awoke with a mighty gasp as the darkness receded. He blinked uncertainly at the blinding white light overhead. He heard someone come into the room hurriedly and then another. They were talking quickly, reminding him of buzzing flies. He couldn’t seem to focus. He felt hands touching him. He felt a needle pricking his arm and things grew even fuzzier.

He floated for a time, adrift like a leaf on a pond…or a lake. There were stars twinkling up above and he heard a voice calling, asking him for something. It was the sweetest voice he’d ever known, one he hadn’t heard in a long time now.

But, something was wrong with him. This wasn’t his bunk. He couldn’t seem to recall anything except for the tug, like a hand reaching for him in the dark pulling him back from a cliff’s edge of nothingness.

“How long was he dead?” he heard a woman ask.

“Nearly a day,” another replied, the fear plain in her voice. “The doctor said the ice kept him…preserved.”

“Those wounds…how could they have healed?”

“He still bears the scars. Perhaps he always will.”

“But his chest…right in the heart? How is that…”

They both stopped speaking as the door opened. “You’re awake, Commander Snow,” a man in a white lab coat said. “Very good.”

_A hospital, the base hospital. How long have I been here?_

The nurses hustled from the room as Jon struggled to speak. His mouth was parched. His throat felt cracked. “Wha…” He tried to raise his hand. It had been restrained. Both hands and his legs had been as well. Why?

The man came closer and eased his head up. He offered him a drink of water through a straw. The water was tepid but welcome. Jon nodded his thanks as his head touched his pillow again.

“You’ve been…in a coma the past several hours after surviving a horrific ordeal.”

But he had not survived. Like the click of a key turning a lock, the memories flashed before his eyes. _My men. My men killed me_.

“I’m Dr. Qyburn, by the way. We’re going to get you fixed up but then I’m not quite sure what to tell you. I’m afraid you’ve been discharged from the Watch.”

 _Discharged? Yes, they don’t expect dead men to serve no more_.

Bitter fury surged through him as his hands balled into fists. He would see those traitors hang. His hands jerked impotently at the restraints.

“Keep calm, Commander. We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself. You’ve been hurt bad enough already.”

He gritted his teeth to keep from screaming at the man. The sedative was strong but not strong enough to hold him forever. It would wear off and then no restraints could hold him.

But then, without warning…he _was_ calm. A curious, detached sensation washed over him. None of this really mattered. The men who’d defied his orders and betrayed him, this man…they weren’t what had brought him back. There was something else out there waiting for him. He was sure of it. Some purpose or need waited for Jon. He was not sure what his mission was yet but there was something that he felt calling to him. The voice. He knew who called to him.

A hunger awoke in him as well. It had been too long since…

“Remove these restraints, please. I’m not going to hurt myself.” He pasted on his best smile, fake as all seven hells. He’d play nice with the doctor. But if the doctor did not play nice back…well, Jon knew how to play not so nice.

“I’m not sure if…maybe not just yet.”

Jon felt his pulse pick up speed but he breathed in and out slow and steady, maintaining the outward appearance of calm.

“You’ve displayed a remarkable ability to heal, Commander. Have you ever noticed that before about yourself?”

Jon clenched his jaw but said nothing. The doctor could pry but he’d be better off not to pry too much.

_“We never speak of it to others, boys. Only within our pack and to our mates.”_

Dr. Qyburn looked concernedly at the monitors that flashed and beeped. His blood pressure was rising. His palms itched to touch the dirt. His mouth began to water. He needed to focus and stop this. He’d not done it involuntarily since he was sixteen and still learning.

Jon forced himself to gaze serenely out the window as if he’d already forgotten about the restraints.

The moon was full and then everything was clear. He knew where he was supposed to go. He recalled the summer nights of his boyhood in Winter’s Hollow. He remembered Uncle Ned and Uncle Benjen teaching him and Robb the laws of the pack. He thought of his family that was lost to him…all but Sansa.

_She’s married now. She didn’t wanna come north with you. It was probably for the best. No matter how honorable your intentions had been when you made your offer, you know deep down you’d have been sorely tempted if she’d come._

Images of her long, wet hair, dark red like dried blood under the full moon as it clung to her milky white skin filled his mind unexpectedly. He heard her tinkling laughter and girlish shrieks as they’d splashed her, the way her nipples were pebbled and visible through the cotton of her bra when she’d rise just a bit above the water’s surface. The bra had matched the blue floral panties she’d worn that night. Oh, yes…he’d peeked. He’d not meant to but she was a girl and he was a boy after all. Well, there was more than that to it, he knew.

He’d been so grateful that the water was black as pitch. His cock had grown hard treading water next to Sansa in Lonely Lake. What if Robb had noticed?

_He’d have punched you and been right to do so, lusting after your cousin…a girl three years younger than you. Or he’d have let the others tear you apart._

But Robb was dead and gone and Sansa was all he had left now. And, he’d bet his last groat that if he’d truly come back from the dead, she was the reason.

The doctor was suggesting he might be best off coming to stay at his residential recovery center for a while. “If you’d be willing to give my facility a try, I can give your recovery a more personal touch there. And we can discuss ways your unique case could aid research and…”

“No more of that now,” Jon said, his voice a dangerous rasp. His eyes slowly drifted over to the doctor and the man dropped the vial of sedative he’d been prepared to inject into the IV. Jon wondered if his eyes had changed. It didn’t matter. This man was nothing and he’d sound like a loon if he told anyone of it. “Thank you for your kind offer, Dr. Qyburn,” he said in that civil tone Aunt Cat had always admonished him and Robb to use at school as boys. “But, now that my watch has ended, I have a cousin I mean to go visit.”

_I will go home. Best if you don’t try and stop me._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That phone call was based on a real one I heard a recording of during a seminar for work once. Sixty people in a room with me including many of my co-workers. I do not cry easily and I hate crying in front of others. I still cried and I was not alone. 
> 
> On the brighter side, Jon is coming.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon remembers teachings and other things from the past. Sansa waits and hopes that the spell worked while still enduring Joffrey. She hears about some disturbing events at Castle Black. Jon comes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: In the second section of this chapter, there is a brief sex scene between Joffrey and Sansa which could certainly be viewed as dubious consent. Joffrey has erectile dysfunction and threatens Sansa after failing to finish.

 

_“You boys paying attention now?” Uncle Ned asked once they’d finished setting up camp._

_“Yes, sir,” they answered as they bobbed their heads in unison._

_Jon had just turned thirteen and Uncle Ned had said it was time for him and Robb to learn more than hunting and fishing out in the woods near their place._

_His uncle put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. In the blink of an eye, an enormous black wolf appeared at the edge of the wood where Uncle Benjen had been standing not a minute ago._

_Robb’s jaw hung open and Jon suspected his own matched his cousin’s, not knowing what to think as the wolf walked right up to Uncle Ned._

_“Benjen, go and hunt us up something to cook over the fire tonight.” The wolf loped away as his uncle turned back towards them. Robb was grinning now but Jon was still too flabbergasted. “It’s part of you too, boys. It’s why you can move so quiet in the woods that the rabbits and squirrels don’t hear you half the time. It’s why you heal quicker than most folks. It’s why we teach you all about the moon and the stars so you’ll know your way through the forest at night.”_

_“You’re saying we’ll be able to do that too, Daddy?”_

_“Yes, Robb. All Stark men are born with it.”_

_“But, I ain’t a Stark, Uncle Ned,” Jon said in a low voice, his face hot with shame._

_He felt his uncle’s hand on his shoulder and looked up into the grey eyes that were so similar to his own. Sometimes those eyes could be hard like the granite down at the quarry but sometimes they were soft like mist rising over the swamps on autumn evenings._

_“You are a Stark. You may not share our name but you share our blood. That’s good enough for us. No matter who your daddy was, your mama was my sister. The wolf is in you, too.”_

_Jon swelled up with pride. His name might always be Snow but it meant a lot hearing Uncle Ned say that. It was all he wanted, to be no different than the rest of them._

Almost all of them. _“What about Sansa, Uncle Ned?”_

_“It’s only the men who shift. It’s our job to protect the pack from the others. Our women have their own roles to play, no less important but different than ours.”_

_Jon nodded not quite sure what his uncle meant but not wanting to admit it._

_Robb had a question of his own though. “What others do you mean, Daddy?”_

_His uncle’s face hardened when he answered._

_It wasn’t till Benjen returned stark naked and grinning with a brace of hares slung over his shoulder that any levity returned to their night._

 

* * *

 

 

Lying across the sheets on her belly, Sansa focused on the sunlight creeping in through the blinds as it made its trek across the bedroom floor and took comfort from the fact he’d have to leave for work before too long. Her back ached but at least he wouldn’t try to kiss her this way. She detested his lips and mouth on her more than anything else.

The bed stopped squeaking for the third time now as he panted heavily. She felt another drop of sweat land on her back.

“Joffrey?” she asked tentatively, glancing over her shoulder.

“Shut up,” he grunted from behind her before he began thrusting again…or tried to. His face was red and sweat beaded his brow and upper lip as he gripped her forearms tightly, pinning her to the mattress. She wondered how she’d ever found him attractive to begin with since her girlish love for him had died completely. “Gods be damned,” he swore angrily when he released her arms at last.

She turned her head into the pillow so he wouldn’t see her smirk when his limp dick slipped out of her once more. Her wound hurt from where he’d been gripping her bandage but it was a small price to pay. He hadn’t been able to maintain an erection or achieve an orgasm since the night of the full moon, the night she’d made her plea to the old gods.

_You’ll father no children on me._

He roughly rolled her over and she yelped when his hand closed over her throat. “Not one fucking word. You breathe one fucking word and…”

“I won’t, not ever,” she whispered with what she hoped was the right mix of dutifulness, understanding and fear. She was not a fool. She was far from safe. The game had to continue. “Do you want me to make you breakfast?”

He didn’t answer but stormed off to take his shower.

She rose and washed at the sink, ridding herself of his sweat and his touch. She unwrapped the bandage and looked at the scratch. She’d told everyone at work she’d tripped over an uneven patch of sidewalk that night when she’d made it back and landed awkwardly. None of them believed her and most probably thought Joffrey had stopped by to check on his wife.

Joffrey had believed her though because if he didn’t put the mark on her body than surely she was telling the truth. He’d called her clumsy but then told her to be more careful.

_“At least it wasn’t your face.”_

The scratch had hurt and yet Sansa believed in her heart that the wolf had been as gentle as it was possible for an animal to be. Her blood had welled up and dripped down her arm to water the ground at the base of the old tree.

 _“Is that all? When will I know if it worked?”_ she’d asked the wolf only to find the wolf had already left her alone once more.

She’d picked up the book and glanced at the open page the winds had turned it to. It was a different spell…a bonding charm. She hoped the other spell would still work.

_It will. It must._

Once her wound was dressed again, Sansa padded to the kitchen to make breakfast. He would expect it whether he’d answered her or not.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Surely, you’ve had ‘em before now,” Robb laughed._

_“I have…and would you shut up?” He hurriedly changed and wished his cousin wouldn’t find this so amusing._

_“Then, why’re you so embarrassed?”_

Because I dreamt of your sister this time before it happened.

_When he’d had what Robb jokingly called happy dreams before, the girl or woman had always been a nebulous figure, not anyone he could readily identify. But this time, it had clearly been Sansa he thought of before he awoke to a damp sleeping bag._

_Sansa had had her a first moon blood a few days ago. Maybe that was why he’d thought of her that way. But she was still a child, wasn’t she?_

_Normally, he didn’t think overly much about girls and their moonblood. The wolf could smell it when a girl had her blood but that was just part of nature, no different than the budding of flowers in spring or the falling leaves of autumn. The young man didn’t dwell on it typically but Sansa was different for him. Her fragrance lingered in his nostrils. It called to something inside of him._

_Normally, it’d be time for them to start teaching her but Jon had overheard Uncle Ned and Aunt Cat arguing about how much Sansa was ready to know about things, about the pack, now that she had flowered. But when they spoke of pretty Sansa in her girlish dresses singing songs about times long past, they’d said it seemed wrong to take that from her just yet. They’d agreed to wait another year or so._

_Shame filled Jon as he laid back down. Could there be some explanation for his thoughts though? Some reason he ached for her? Not just with sexual desire but in his heart as well._

_“Do you think there’s any truth to those stories Benjen told us? The ones Granny passed down about the older ones and soul mates? About us finding a girl that’s meant for us and one who we’re meant for, too?”_

_“I don’t know. Daddy said Mama was supposed to wed our Uncle Brandon before he died but I can’t picture it. And if she was meant for Uncle Brandon, how could she be so happy with Daddy?”_

_“True. I suppose it’s just stories then. Is your tattoo still sore?”_

_“Nah, it’s better. Yours?”_

_“Yeah, it’s alright.”_

_Jon had turned sixteen during the new moon and both boys had received their tattoos. His uncles had decided to allow Robb to wait until Jon could take the covenant with him._

_It was a full moon tonight and Uncle Ned had told them they could go camping while he and Benjen patrolled the borders of their land. Sansa and Aunt Cat had been making popcorn and working on a new quilt for the winter together when they’d left._

_Jon’s eyes had just closed again when his senses alerted him to someone approaching their tent. He and Robb were crouched and ready to spring when Uncle Ned threw back the flap._

_“Boys…we got trespassers.”_   _His uncle turned and shifted into a great grey wolf before he tore off through the woods._

_Robb gulped and looked frightened. Jon was frightened, too._

_“It’s alright to be frightened, boys,” Uncle Ned had told them once. “How can a man be brave if he ain’t the least bit scared? It’s how you respond to the fear that matters.”_

_Together, they stood and exited the tent before shifting to follow their uncle. Their job was to protect the pack and defend their land_ s. 

__

* * *

 

 

“Did you hear about what happened up at Castle Black? Hello? Sansa?” Sansa turned back to Jeyne who was staring at her funny. “You alright?”

“Uh huh,” she answered.

She turned away from the window and attempted to conceal the hate in her eyes as Roose Bolton climbed out of his car outside the grocery store and headed down the street. Thin and sickly looking, the man who’d bought the Stark lands for a song after she’d trusted Tywin Lannister to handle her family’s affairs didn’t even see her. Even if he had, she was probably just some silly, powerless girl to him. But she saw him. Her lip curled back into sneer of dislike whenever she spied his pale eyes.

She was supposed to be getting the week’s groceries and coming straight home but she’d run into Jeyne Poole, the only friend she still had from her childhood (the only friend who knew how things really were and showed her any true kindness) and Jeyne had insisted they catch up over coffee in the store’s little café. Sansa didn’t care for coffee but Jeyne was buying and she wanted to talk to her friend.

“I’m sorry, Jeyne. What did you ask?”

“Did you hear about the murders up at Castle Black? Isn’t Jon still up there?”

“Yes…yes, Jon is there. Gods, what happened?!”

Her friend’s cell phone was lying on the table and she itched to snatch it up and call. What if something had happened to him? He was the only family she had left. She’d dreamed of him the other day, just before the full moon.

_Dreamed of him and became aroused._

She felt a flush of shame over the memory but that didn’t matter now. She knew he was tied to his vows and couldn’t help her but that didn’t mean she did not care about what happened to him.

“Well, there were reports of some sort of mutiny. An officer was reportedly stabbed several times but wasn’t named.”

“Gods! Jon’s an officer.”

“It was said whoever the officer was survived the attack. But here’s the really weird thing. You heard how they call their jail the ice cells?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, they really are made of ice and underground. Apparently, the mutineers were found slaughtered in their cells shortly before they were set to be executed for their crime.”

“Slaughtered?”

“That was the term the paper used but it didn’t specify what happened.”

“Is there a suspect? The man they stabbed maybe?”

“No, it said their victim was still in the hospital.” Jeyne went on to tell her about the flap it had stirred. “All I know is, sounds like Castle Black isn’t a good place to be right now. There was even some physician for the Watch who was found hanging in his home the very same day.”

“Oh! A suicide?”

“The authorities aren’t sure. There wasn’t a note.”

“Most suicides don’t leave notes.”

“True. And now there’s reports that this doctor was already under investigation for carrying out unethical experiments on his patients.”

Sansa’s stomach clenched in distaste. “That’s awful.”

“Sounds like they need some more law and order up that way,” a familiar voice said from behind Sansa. She felt the hair on her arms standing on end when she turned and saw her husband. “Hello, my wife.”

Sansa felt like cowering but stood to face him. “Hello. I ran into Jeyne while I was shopping.”

“I see that,” he said with his most charming smile at her friend. Jeyne scowled at him in response. That would not help her one bit. “Did you get the items I requested?” he asked, looking at the completely empty shopping cart that she’d parked behind their table.

“I will. I was just getting started. It was nice seeing you, Jeyne.”

“It’s nice to see you, too,” Jeyne said sympathetically.

“Sansa…be sure and thank your friend for buying you a coffee.”

“Yes. Thank you for the coffee, Jeyne.”

For the next thirty minutes, he walked up and down the aisles with her, chatting about his parents inviting them both to supper and acting as though they were just a happy young couple doing their weekly shopping together. She knew nothing could be further from the truth.

_Dinner with the in-laws on Saturday. He won’t strike me in the face anytime soon then._

They were both likely to ignore her black eyes; Robert because he’d given Cersei a few in the past and Cersei because she could never see any real wrong in Joffrey, but he was more careful about keeping up appearances around his folks. He seemed determined to make his father proud of him. Sansa wasn’t sure why. Robert Baratheon might be his father and Blackwater Bayou’s sheriff but he was a miserable excuse for a man, stumbling through life in a fog of alcohol and pain killers half the time and screwing every whore in town the other half. He didn’t remotely resemble her father’s old boyhood friend anymore.

_And what would Daddy think of the things he lets go on?_

Joffrey’s cruiser was parked down the block which was why she hadn’t seen it. No doubt he’d hoped to catch her up to something. _Having coffee with an old friend…a grave sin_.

He carried the groceries to the car, the car which he’d permitted her to drive to the store. She doubted he’d allow her to drive it again any time soon after today.

Perhaps it would be best to just get in it and drive away right now. She could go north and maybe find Jon. She wanted to know he was safe and maybe he’d find her a room to rent up that way just like he’d once offered.

_Mysterious murders and Night’s Watch vows, be damned. I’d be better off with Jon than here._

But after Joffrey had hissed a promise that he’d be home early tonight and closed her door, she drove straight home. He kept a tight rein on her wallet. She barely had enough money in her pocket to buy a pack of gum, let alone fuel for the car. And if she couldn’t make it to Castle Black, where else could she go?

 

* * *

 

 

_“Jon…this is not our way.”_

He could almost hear them speaking to him, their voices deep and gruff and sorrowful.

_Protect the pack.  Guard our lands. Pray to the gods. Keep our secret._

That was the way of it. The wolf might take a man’s life but not as a man. Murder wasn’t supposed to be part of it.

Perhaps it was his daddy’s blood coming out along with the wolf. Half of them had gone mad by the time they reached adulthood. Did he have the taint? Was he to be cursed as well?

_It don’t matter. I’m almost there. Our first law is to protect the pack. She’s my pack. She needs me. I know she does…and none of you are here to protect her._

As if to punctuate the thought, the bus’s brakes screeched to a halt. He collected his duffel bag and exited with the other passengers.

The morning sunshine was bright. He scrubbed at his beard, the prickling heat and humidity annoying after being accustomed to the cooler climate up at the Wall. That didn’t matter either. He was here. He felt that sense of purpose take him again. This was the right decision. He was meant to come to her.

Blackwater Bayou was much as he remembered it. Larger than Winter’s Hollow and filled with that genteel sort of falseness he’d always loathed, he would have to stay here for the foreseeable future. He needed to be close to her and their lands, the lands that should be Sansa’s by right, were gone, taken by those Boltons. White hot anger filled him at just the thought of that.

 _All in good time,_ he told himself.

He didn’t know her address but he figured that wouldn’t be much of a challenge. Everyone knew the family she’d married in to. She’d sent him a few name day cards over the years and a letter once when she’d married but he’d failed to keep her address or maintain much communication.

He shook his head at himself. He’d failed her, all because of some stupid vows he’d made at the Wall. Those weren’t the vows that mattered. And all because he’d been a reckless, angry boy thinking he could never be…

He found her house in the ritzier part of town an hour later, a rambling, two story that looked like it was older than it was with a wide front porch and a lion’s head door knocker.

_Awfully nice for a cop._

Of course, Joffrey Baratheon was from a rich family.

Ignoring the lion’s head, he knocked three times and shoved his hands in his pockets, his heart rate kicking up with nerves and expectation. Maybe he should’ve called ahead to announce his intention to visit.

“Coming!” he heard her call as he began composing a reason for being here that didn’t sound insane.

His hastily prepared words fluttered out of his mind the moment she opened the door. Her hair was damp like she’d just showered. She stared at him bug-eyed and he stared right back. She was Sansa and not Sansa. Still his beautiful little cousin but all grown up. His eyes could not seem to stop drinking her in.

“Jon.” She sighed out his name like a benediction. “You’re here.” The way she said it, it was almost like some hope had been answered. He’d tell himself as much anyway.

“I am,” he said before she leapt into his arms.

Her body was warm and soft as he held her. He inhaled the sweet nip of some citrusy product in her hair and the subtle fragrance of lavender on her skin but underneath he could smell her, that scent that he’d never quite forgotten, the one that reminded him of home and stirred his soul.

She was nuzzling her face against his cheek, murmuring words he couldn’t quite catch as his heart swelled with relief and joy and love. He pulled her against him tighter, never wanting to let go.

But then, she winced and stifled a gasp of pain.

He set her carefully back down and her eyes dropped to the floor. Jon stepped across the threshold into her home and closed the door behind him. He gently tipped her chin up and waited for her pure blue eyes to meet his grey ones.

“I believe we have some catching up to do, sweet one.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hides behind hands* I'm sorry for Sansa's suffering! But I promise from here on out things will be improving for her...and getting worse for Joffrey.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa catch up and Jon learns the truth about Sansa's marriage. Sansa tries to get Jon to think things through. Joffrey's getting a houseguest and Sansa gets a surprising call at work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen...Lisa made me some awesome mood boards so I'm going to be dropping them periodically throughout the fic. She is The Best.
> 
> Warning-a brief description of Sansa's injuries from a recent beating is given but it will be from the last beating Joffrey will ever give her.

 

 

The coffee she’d made had long since grown cold but he poured himself another cup. Sansa made good coffee, as good as Aunt Cat’s had been though she hadn’t touched a drop of it herself. He recalled she never had acquired a taste for it. Too strong and too bitter, she’d claimed as a girl. She’d preferred sweet tea or lemonade. He wondered if there was any in the house.

He set the mug back down when they’d nearly talked themselves hoarse. Jon thought he’d probably talked more in the last two hours than he had in the last two years or more.

“What’d he do last night?”

He thought he sounded reasonably sane when he spoke despite the thundering of blood between his ears.

She bit her lip and looked out the window. It took her a long time to answer. “I could, uh…show you,” she said, dropping her eyes again.

He grunted his assent and she stood from where they’d been sitting in her living room. She pulled off her shirt and clutched it to her chest for a beat or two. He lifted his eyes slowly from her knees when she dropped it.

The bruises covered her torso, her arms and part of her neck. He asked her to turn around so he could see her back. There were ugly red welts there, belt marks crisscrossing underneath her bra straps and disappearing beneath the waistband of her pants.

“Fuck…fuck. Fucking son of a bitch."   

He felt like he was choking.  Impotent fury and heartache twisted his insides. He took three deep breaths for control before he rose and stepped towards her. His skin felt too tight and a snarl escaped from between his lips. Her husband would die slowly.

“I’m sorry,” she said to the floor.

He ducked his head and took her hand in his, waiting on her to look back up. Didn’t she know it was him who ought to be ashamed? Him and her worthless husband? He’d left her unprotected. He’d ignored the first law of the pack.

“Don’t you ever say sorry for the things he’s done. Don’t say sorry to me. This ain’t your fault.”

She nodded and he helped her put her shirt back on. Long sleeves and a high collar despite the lingering heat that would plague Blackwater Bayou till winter. She hugged herself once she was covered again.

“How long’s he been doing this?”

“Best part of a year. This was a bad one. One of the worst I can recall. He caught me having…” Her face crumpled up with shame and pain. No knife to the heart hurt like this. He’d rather be dead again. She whispered the rest. “I was having coffee with a friend yesterday. He was convinced I’d told her about his, uh…issue.”

His issue. Jon would very much like to help Joffrey with his issue. He’d like to rip his cock off and stuff it down his throat for him to choke to death on.

“I’ll kill him,” he vowed.

“Jon, you can’t. His daddy is sheriff. His grandfather is…”

“You think I give a shit who they are?! You think that’d stop me?! He ain’t getting away with this!”

She cringed and backed away at his explosive anger as he balled his hands into fists. _Oh, shit._

“Sansa…” he said much more softly, “I’m sorry for yelling. I won’t ever hurt you.” He took one step closer and held his hands out to the side now. “Sweet one…I’d never lay one finger on you in anger. You believe me?” She nodded. “But he’s gonna pay. No one treats you like this.”

She laughed bitterly. “You think he’s the only one to ever treat me bad since Daddy and Mama died?”

“No, but…who else we talking about?”

“You weren’t here, Jon. I did the best I could but they all wanted things from me. I signed the papers that gave away our home.”

“I’m not blaming you for any of that. How could I? I blame myself for not throwing you over my shoulder and taking you north with me the day I left. You were still a kid when they died. It’s my fault that you…”

“It’s not your fault. You’d already joined the Watch. You couldn’t have backed out on your vows. You’d have been sent to jail for deserting.”

“They’d have had to find me first.”

“Jon, I need you to think straight and be rational. What will happen to me if you go off and kill my husband the second you lay eyes on him? Would you think on that at least? Where am I supposed to go if you’re in prison? You think murdering Joffrey will bring me any peace if everyone knows my cousin did it? Not if Cersei has her way. She’ll find a way for us both to rot…if she don’t have us out right killed. I just wanna get away him and this town. Please, Jon,” she murmured as she walked back into his arms again.

“Shush,” he whispered, holding her close but mindful of her poor battered body now. “No one’s gonna hurt you no more, Sansa.”

“Then, take me away from here.”

She tucked her head into the crook of his neck, just like she belonged there. She did belong there as far as he was concerned. He sighed with a contentment he’d not known in ages, maybe never.

But, he still had to say it.

“We ain’t leaving our land, Sansa. We need to go home.”

“What home? The Boltons have our land now.”

“The Boltons won’t be keeping it. I’m gonna take you home to Winter’s Hollow. You and me can live there.”

She tipped her head up to look at him. She traced a finger along the scar above his eye. She’d better stop with too much of that. He was already full of enough notions.

“I’d like going home with you.”

“Good,” he said, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “It’s where we belong.”

“But Joffrey will never let me go.”

“Joffrey ain’t gonna be drawing breath much longer.”

“Jon…” She shuddered and moved out of his embrace. “You can’t be talking like that. I didn’t ask the gods for revenge. I only asked for a protector.”

“Well, it’s me they sent so I guess you’re getting both.”

 

A half hour later, he was sitting in Sansa’s living room and Joffrey Baratheon was still alive…for now. He’d come home unexpectedly twenty minutes ago though he was still ostensibly on patrol. Did he hope to catch her neglecting her housework after he’d beaten her bloody last night?

He’d pretended he was pleased that his wife’s cousin had come to visit out of the blue. He was full of that bullshit charm that Jon had always found so grating from the rich boys like him in school. Still, Jon could play along for a little bit just like he had with the doctor. He didn’t plan on living out his days in prison and he sure didn’t plan on Sansa ever seeing the interior of one.

The couple had disappeared into Joffrey’s den a few minutes ago to discuss a ‘personal matter’ as Joffrey had called it. Jon could hear him hissing under his breath at her now. He’d always had keen ears.

_“Why is he here?”_

_“He’s been discharged after being wounded. He wanted to come home. I’m the only family he’s got left.”_

_“What have you told him?”_

_“Nothing, I swear.”_

He made a fist again to focus his rage. He would have to be smart about this. He’d have to listen to Sansa. Killing the man in cold blood would ease one of her troubles but only bring her a different kind.

However, if Joffrey laid a hand on her right now, Jon knew he’d kill first and sort out the mess later.

_Calm. Think. Remember that she deserves to live a life that doesn’t involve being hounded all her days over her no good husband’s death._

“Sansa?” he called when things were getting too quiet in the next room for his liking. “I don’t mean to be no trouble but you mind if I get settled? I’m awful tired from the all-night bus ride.”

The door to Joffrey’s den swung open and she hurriedly rejoined him as Joffrey followed with a churlish look he didn’t quite bother hiding.

_Good. I’ll enjoy pissing you off. You won’t be taking it out on her though._

“Settled?” she asked before her eyes lit up with understanding. “Oh, yes! Of course! Let me show you upstairs to your room!” She’d always been a clever girl.

Aunt Cat had done her best to raise him right along with Sansa and Robb. He knew it wasn’t manners to show up on someone’s doorstep without calling and ask them to put you up but he wasn’t remotely worried about manners today. There was no way he was leaving this house with her still living in it and Joffrey still breathing. He’d need to get a place for them in time, preferably _their_ place.

“There’s a foldout in my den,” Joffrey started to say but Sansa pretended not to hear and led him up the stairs.

She guided him to the bedroom beside her and Joffrey’s. Jon’s lip curled up in distaste at the thoughts of Joffrey lying in bed next to Sansa. Despite his ‘issue,’ Jon didn’t want him touching her in any form or fashion. If he had to hear Joffrey even attempting to fuck her, he knew he’d want to claw his own skin off…and then tear Joffrey’s throat out.

The landing at the top of the stairs was small outside the bedrooms. He glanced over his shoulder at the hardwood foyer thirteen steps below.

_Never can be too careful around a flight of stairs. It’s one of the most common ways to get an injury at home. And there’s a foldout in his den..._

“Here you go. The other spare bedroom only has a twin bed and this one has its own bath attached. It’s not much but I hope you’ll be comfortable.”

It contained a bureau, a chest of drawers and a full-sized bed. It was larger than even his officer’s quarters had been with the Watch. There was a window and the curtains were a cheery yellow. It made him think of one of Sansa’s summer sundresses she’d loved to wear when she’d still been a girl. Then, he remembered her bruises and decided she probably didn’t wear dresses like that anymore.

_She will again. When spring and summer return, she’ll wear all the pretty sundresses she likes._

“It’s everything I could need. I’ll be close,” he said meaningfully.

Joffrey had not bothered following them up the stairs. Her eyes met his and she nodded with a flicker of hope.

The room was stuffy in the heat of the day. He unzipped his duffle bag as Sansa twiddled her hands together nervously, likely trying to decide if she dared go back down to face her husband again.

He wanted a fresh shirt, one that didn’t smell of the bus or the sweat he’d worked up on his walk here this morning. He yanked his soiled one over his head and heard her gasp. Now he was the one clutching his shirt to his chest.

“Oh, Jon…” Her eyes were clouding up and he couldn’t stand to think she’d cry over him after everything she’d suffered.

“It’s…” He’d seen her wounds. He supposed she had every right to see his. He dropped his shirt to the bed. “It looks a lot worse than it feels.”

Her fingertips were cool as she traced the scar over his heart. He shut his eyes to keep from becoming even more mesmerized by the blue of hers.

“The gods…you really came back the night of the full moon, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“I can’t believe it worked. They brought you back for me.”

“They did.”

“I’m so sorry for your pain.”

“I ain’t in any pain now so don’t fret.” He lifted her fingers to his lips and pressed a kiss to them. He watched her eyes darken. He wondered if she could possibly be as affected by him as he was by her. “When he leaves, I wanna see that book of yours.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Who gave you this?” Jon had asked as he thumbed through the book.

“This homeless lady who’d been picked up for loitering or some petty offense. She said her name was Maggy.”

“Was she short, ugly as sin and have crusty eyes? Was it Maggy the Frog?”

“That’s not nice to say about a person, Jon.”

“It’s what folks call her.”

“You know her then?”

“Nah. I didn’t ever meet her but Uncle Benjen knew her. Said she was a witch.”

“A witch?”

“Not a bad one. Least not bad to us.”

She’d been sure he was messing with her like he sometimes did when they were kids. “You gonna tell me there’s warlocks too then?”

Jon had given her a funny smile and said, “Oh, cousin. We’ve got some more catching up to do. Which one did you use?”

She’d pointed out the spell for protection she’d recited that night. She’d decided not to mention the bonding charm. Things were crazy enough as it was and maybe it was only her that was affected.

 

Today had been something else. From the moment, he’d arrived she’d wanted to keep pinching herself, not quite able to hope he was real. Her emotions had run from elation to despair after all their talking and what she’d had to admit to him. She’d been ashamed to have to tell him the pickle she’d found herself in…not that Jon had blamed her for it.

 _It’s not my fault he treats me so awful,_ she reminded herself. Jon was right about that. She wondered what it’d be like to be married to a man who wasn’t awful…a man like Jon.

She recalled Jon’s gentle smiles fondly as she sat down in her cubicle that night and put on her headset. He’d been a good-looking boy but he’d grown into a handsome man since she’d seen him last. And all those years apart hadn’t really dimmed what she’d first felt that summer night at Lonely Lake. It wasn’t just want though. They were kin but there was sparks there, too. Jon loved her and she loved him. Jon wouldn’t ever hurt her. He’d take care of her and she thought he could use some taking care of, too.

_And what might grow between us in time?_

Those romantic fancies she’d held had nearly been destroyed by her marriage. And she wasn’t a child anymore. She understood in her heart now all those things her mama had tried to tell her about the differences between passion and love, between attraction and compatibility.

_“It’s not a flash in the pan, darling girl. Real love takes time. You got to let it take root and grow just like the trees in the woods. It needs nurturing and patience. They don’t grow up overnight. You gotta remember that desire and devotion are not the same thing either. You can desire a man but find yourself not very devoted to him in the end. You might be devoted to a person and not desire them. It’s when you feel both and are willing to take your time and work things through that you might wind up with something like your daddy and I have.”_

She took a deep breath and told herself to be sensible. For now, she was a married woman and Jon was living in their guest bedroom. There were things that needed to happen before she could hope for anything else.

And, she was currently worried about what Jon might do. He said he’d kill Joffrey and she knew he meant it. She honestly couldn’t say she was too bothered by the idea but he couldn’t just go about murdering people.

Speaking of murdering people…

She’d been horrified by his tale of being killed by his own men but then she’d immediately grown suspicious after what Jeyne had told her.

“Did you kill them?” she’d asked point blank.

“How could I have done that with them locked up and me in the hospital?” he’d replied with a shifty little smile. “Maybe someone else did. They had it coming either way.”

She suspected that was all the answer he’d give her for now anyway. He’d been up front about everything else. She wouldn’t push him on it.

But, what had been even more amazing than his murder and resurrection was the other things he’d told her…and shown her. She could’ve been knocked down by a feather when Jon had gone into the bathroom and an enormous white wolf had padded out of it a moment later.

“Why’d you go in there first?” was all she’d managed to say when he’d changed back.

“I didn’t want to ruin my clothes,” he’d chuckled as he buttoned his pants back up.

She’d touched his wolf tattoo before he could pull his shirt back on, the one he’d got on his shoulder when he’d turned sixteen. His grey eyes had darkened and he’d licked his lips. She’d felt flushed and feverish and almost told him about the bonding charm and other things. Instead, she’d stepped back and let him continue to explain about the pack, its law and being a shapeshifter. Then, he’d told her of the others.

“What at they?”

“Werewolves.”

“But…isn’t that what…”

“We’re not the same. We’ve been shapeshifters since the time of the First Men, your daddy always reckoned. We’re born with it but can’t shift till we’re sixteen or so. When we shift, we become a wolf. A giant wolf but still a wolf. We can change at will and we remember what we do when we’re the wolf even when we change back to men. Werewolves aren’t born that way. They’ve got to be bitten or scratched by another. They can only change around the full moon. They’re monsters and will kill indiscriminately when they phase. You remember how your daddy and Uncle Benjen always went camping during the full moons?”

“I remember. You and Robb started going with them.”

“Yeah. They were out there defending out lands those nights. Sansa…Uncle Benjen didn’t die on no hunting trip.”

She’d gasped in response. She’d never doubted what her daddy had told her when he’d come home sad that one morning when she was fifteen and told her and Mama. She remembered Mama crying and arguing with him in their bedroom later though.

_And then Mama and Daddy were dead within a year and Robb a few days later…and Tywin Lannister got me to sign papers and the Boltons got our land._

Maybe that was something to point out to Jon.

“Maggy called me Wolf Girl.”

“You are.”

“How? I can’t do that thing like you.”

“No…but there’s other things you can do and I’ll do my best to teach you everything you need to know.”

She wanted to learn. She wanted to know all of it. However, the clock had struck five and she’d hurriedly made dinner. They’d have tomorrow to talk. As soon as Joffrey left for work the next day, she meant to sit down and talk with Jon again. _You’ll need to sleep eventually,_ she reminded herself.

Jon had already been eating like a starving man when Joffrey had returned. Her husband had glared at the back of his head when he noticed Jon was sitting in his seat. Sansa’s lips had twitched but she’d not dared crack a smile. She’d fixed her husband a plate and packed her lunch before going upstairs to get ready for work.

Joffrey had raged about Jon all the way to the station as he drove her to work but he’d not said one impolite thing to his face thus far. Was he afraid of Jon? Was he afraid of what Jon might do if he knew about the way he treated her? Was he afraid of losing control over her now that there was someone she might go to?

Whatever he thought didn’t matter. Jon promised he wouldn’t let Joffrey hurt her anymore and she trusted him.

The first three hours of her shift drug by slowly as she stifled her yawns. She’d only had about two hours sleep before Jon had arrived. She’d been off last night but the beating Joffrey had given her had kept her from sleeping till the morning light.

She wondered what Jon and Joffrey would get up to at home without her there.

Her headset buzzed with another call. “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“Good, it’s you! Get the fuck home!”

“Joffrey?”

It was surely his voice but she’d never heard him sound like this. He was nearly incoherent. His voice was closer to a shriek than a shout. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears.

“Call me a fucking ambulance! Gods, that fucking hurts! Meet me at the hospital, Sansa! And call my mother!”

Her heart started pounding. Joffrey was hurt but, if he was calling, where was Jon? What was going on?

“Joffrey…what’s happened?”

“I fell down the stairs!  It was dark and...mother fucker, just call the damned ambulance!”

“I’m dispatching an ambulance right now,” she said as her fingers typed the request for a first responder to go to their address. “Where’s Jon?”

“He’s…fuck! Don’t mess with it! You talk to the silly bitch!”

The phone went quiet for a moment but she then heard him. His voice was deep and smooth like molasses. He was far calmer than Joffrey. It left her decidedly less calm.

“Hello, Sansa. I’m sorry to say the damnedest thing happened while I was showering. Joffrey fell down the stairs. I’m afraid he may have broken his leg. Don’t you fret though..."  She shivered in anticipation when his voice dropped lower and he said, "I’m gonna take care of him for you.”

“I know you will, Jon. I believe it and I’m grateful,” she whispered in response.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa recalls the past while awaiting x-ray results for Joffrey and sees her old doctor. Jon's list begins to grow while babysitting a helpless Joffrey.

 

_She’d flowered for the first time but Sansa had never felt less flowery. Mama and the school nurse had smiled and told her it was a big moment in a girl’s life. Sansa had known it would happen eventually and thought she’d feel all grown up when it did. Instead, she’d just felt icky and embarrassed by the attention._

_She wasn’t her normal cheerful self either. She was ill-tempered one minute and ready to cry the next. Her mind would wander at the worst times during class, too._

_It was bad enough Daddy knew. She couldn’t stand the thought of Robb or Jon knowing but of course they did._

_And of all the silly things, her insides had started doing somersaults when Jon had brought home a box of Lemon Drop Herbal Tea today, quietly telling her he hoped it might help. Of course, she knew Mama had asked him to fetch it from town but he was the one who brought it. The cramps had been fierce the first day but now it was better. She was convinced it was the tea that had helped._

_“Why don’t they ever take me camping with them?” she sulked from where she sat on the kitchen counter when the door had shut behind the men that night._

_“They’ve taken you before. Fetch me the corn syrup.”_

_“Not in ages.”_

_“Did you want to go camping now?” Mama asked with a grin._

_Of course, she didn’t. She didn’t care much for sleeping in tents anyway. She couldn’t picture dealing with peeing in the woods right now in her current state._

_“It’d just be nice if they’d asked,” she answered with a sniff as she handed her mother the syrup and sat back on the counter._

_She returned to looking through the pages of Granny Lyarra’s old journal. She was dead and gone and Daddy had given it to Mama when they wed. Catelyn Stark would often look through it on nights like this when the men were away and read passages to Sansa but tonight she’d told her she should take her own look. Her daddy’s mother had followed the old gods same as all the Starks. Sansa and her mother followed the Seven but Mama said there was wisdom for her to learn in it._

_“You might favor me in looks but you’re a Stark, Sansa. More than I’ll ever be. And there’s things Stark women have to know.”_

_“Like what?”_

_Mama had looked out the kitchen window at that for a bit before she’d stroked Sansa’s hair and said, “Things you’ll learn in good time, darling girl.”_

_The journal had everything from recipes for hearty venison stew and bread pudding to sure-fire remedies for snake bites and croup. The lore of the First Men was written in it along with a detailed family tree going back several generations. It also had verses of old songs and older legends copied down._

_Naturally, Sansa had been drawn to a tragic love story; one about a maiden who fell in love with a man who was part wolf. The gods had meant for them to be together but their love was forbidden by others. She was forced to marry another to the detriment of all._

_“What’s this about bonding charms and soul mates?”_

_Mama looked over her shoulder and read the story. “Oh, some of that’s just fables but you’d have to ask your daddy. He knows the stories better than me.”_

_“Daddy ain’t here,” she moped._

_“No, the men have gone camping and we’re going to make popcorn balls and work on our quilt,” her mother said, setting down the rest of their supplies to make them._

_Sansa crossed her arms over her chest. “But do you think there’s any truth to the tales of someone who’s meant just for us?”_

_“I don’t know. That’s not how it was for me and your daddy.”_

_Sansa nodded though she’d liked the idea of soul mates. It sounded terribly romantic. A boy would pine for his girl and once she flowered, she’d pine for him, too. If they were lucky, they already knew each other and wouldn’t have to search and search and maybe never find one another. And when they were old enough, he might even bring her something…a simple gift or gesture. Nothing extravagant. Maybe a box of tea._

_But, she knew Mama was originally going to marry her Uncle Brandon before he died. Maybe he died because he wasn’t her soul mate. Young as she was, she knew better than to say that to Mama. She also knew Mr. Baelish had been sweet on Mama when they were young and Daddy didn’t like him one bit._

_“Well, maybe it is just a story but don’t most stories have some truth to them? Maybe it’s not everyone who has ‘em. What if just some of us do? Do you think it’s possible, Mama?”_

_“I suppose there’s something to what you say. Have you found him already, my girl?” Mama teased._

_Sansa flushed and scooped up some popcorn. “No, ma’am,” she said though Mama was still grinning._

_She tried to put his shy sweet words out of her mind and not think about his dark grey eyes or the dreamy way his hair curled. It was silly of her and she wasn’t going to think any more about that tonight._

 

* * *

 

 

 _What happened to my granny’s book?_ Sansa mused as the nurse came back with the x-ray results.

“Oh…a Greenstick fracture of the Tibia and Fibula both,” Dr. Luwin said with a grimace as Sansa peered over his shoulder. “You sure did a number on that leg, Joffrey. You’ll be lucky if we don't have to operate.”

Joffrey was snoring from the heavy dose of pain medication he’d been given after Cersei had raised a hue and cry about her boy’s suffering. Sansa had hung back with Jon and let her mother-in-law do the talking.

Dr. Luwin grinned when he got no response. Sansa thought he must be glad to have some quiet in the hospital exam room again since Cersei had gone to rail at someone else and Joffrey had passed out.

She felt Jon take her hand. “Hey, Doc. Could you take a look at something else for us?” Jon asked.

Sansa thought he might mean himself till the doctor turned around and she realized both men were staring at her. “I’m fine. It’s my husband who fell down a flight a steps.”

Jon’s lips twitched and she wanted to smack some sense into him. He shouldn’t act so pleased in front of others. She knew Joffrey hadn’t just fell. Dark in the house at night and Joffrey would’ve had a few beers before bed. The wolf would be quick and quiet with the shower water running. She could just about picture it. She wanted to grin too now and pinched herself.

“Come have a seat here, Sansa,” the doctor said, patting the other exam bed.

She did as he bid her.

Doc Luwin had come to Blackwater Bayou from elsewhere but he’d settled just outside Winter’s Hollow years ago and had gained the trust and acceptance of the folks there over the years. He’d attended Robb and Sansa’s birth and would’ve attended Jon’s if his mama had been home when her pains began. Instead, another doctor had seen her through it. Or not, seeing as she’d died.

The good doctor was a bachelor and had devoted his life to medicine. He was on-call two nights a week at the local hospital as well as the town’s chief coroner.

He was the only doctor she’d ever seen till she’d married and Joffrey had made her switch to Dr. Pycelle since that was who his family used. Dr. Pycelle was very well off and head of the town’s most prestigious practice. He was also far too familiar in the exam room for Sansa’s comfort though she’d been hesitant to say as much to anyone. It was sometimes hard for a woman to explain how a male doctor had managed to make her uncomfortable. She just felt it in her bones when he succeeded at it.

So, she was glad to see Luwin’s familiar face tonight. She’d missed him being her doctor.

Dr. Luwin sat down opposite her with a sad smile and just stared at her for a few minutes. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, Sansa.”

“I know. Joffrey said with his insurance that it was easier for…”

“Nah, don’t fret over that. You want him to leave the room?” he asked her, nodding towards Jon. She shook her head. “Did you need me to look you over any?”

“No. I’m okay.”

The doctor got back up and shook his head.

“Ain’t you gonna examine her?!”

“I don’t need to, Jon. I’ve been a doctor longer than you’ve been alive. I heard through the grapevine that you were in here two months ago with a fractured wrist, Sansa. A fall, wasn’t it?” he asked her, raising his bushy eyebrows and daring her to tell that tale again. Sansa lowered her eyes. She was afraid to come out and say it but she couldn’t lie to Dr. Luwin either. “Heard another doctor saying you cracked your collar bone last winter, too.” He looked at her unconscious husband for a moment. Actually, he glared at him before his shoulders drooped in resignation. “I hate to think of all the contusions there’s been that you never sought medical attention for.”

“You knew!” Jon hissed, full of scathing resentment. “You knew like everyone else and you didn’t do a damned thing!”

“I certainly suspected. It’s a very sad and very common story, Jon.”

“Sad and common ‘cause no one ‘round here seems to give a shit.”

“I do care. I care very much. But, I’m not her physician and haven’t treated her since her marriage. And who am I gonna tell my suspicions to? The sheriff, her own father-in-law?” he asked sardonically. “Dr. Pycelle didn’t report the suspected abuse though he’s supposed to by law. You can be angry with me if you like, young man, but I have to live in this town, too.” Luwin turned back to Sansa. “Your husband will be in a cast for 5 to 6 weeks with a break like this. He won’t be running after no one for some time, I’d say.”

 _He won’t be running after no one_. She nodded, knowing what he meant.

But Sansa wasn’t looking to run away anymore. Before she might’ve run to Jon but Jon was here now and they had something worth fighting for to get back, something more important to look towards besides getting away from her abusive husband.

“Don’t be angry with him, Jon,” she said once they were alone again. He was more than angry. He was furious as he paced. She reached for his hand. He always seemed to calm when she touched him. Was that the bonding charm at work…or just because? “He’s a good doctor. He’s never been unkind to us. Mama and Daddy thought the world of Dr. Luwin.”

“I don’t blame him any more than I blame myself,” he said with a shudder as he squeezed her hand in response.   

It sounded like he was choking on his remorse. She could shout it wasn’t his fault till she was blue in the face. She knew he was going to go on blaming himself. She’d keep trying though.

“You didn’t…”

“What about Pycelle though?” he interrupted. “Don’t expect me to ignore that. He knew. He treated your injuries, didn’t he?”

“Pycelle?” she repeated, tasting that name deep in her belly and feeling slightly ill.  Her wrath was a cold thing in its slumber but when it stirred… _wolf girl._   “I hate his breath on me,” she whispered. A chill chased down her spine as Jon straightened, rippling with rage and every fiber of his being hinging on her words. “He stands too close even when we’re just talking. His hands linger too long and in the wrong places during his exams. He bandaged my broken wrist and simpered about how some men get cranky when they're hungry and supper ain’t on the table in a timely manner. I don’t care for him at all.”

When she dared a glance at Jon again, she would’ve sworn his eyes glowed red with hate.

 

* * *

 

 

 _“You think he’s the only one to ever treat me bad since Daddy and Mama died?”_ she’d laughed bitterly.

Jon sucked in his cheeks and thought about that. His list was getting longer.

“Gods, can’t we watch something else?” Joffrey whined when the next episode came on.

“I figured a cop would enjoy the True Crime genre,” he smirked, making sure the remote control remained out of reach. “Time for your next dose.”

He got up to fetch himself another bottle of water and the pills. He liked Joffrey hurting but he also liked him quiet. When his mouth wasn’t open, it was easier for Jon to restrain himself from killing him.

Once Joffrey was slumbering, Jon watched the show and took a few notes in his chicken scratch handwriting. He read them over a few times, committing them to memory.

He stood and stretched. He laid one hand on Joffrey’s bare foot sticking out from the plaster cast. It was cold to the touch.

“What’re you doing?” Joffrey slurred.

“Just checking on you. You look a mite flushed.” He took Joffrey’s blanket away.

“I’m cold.”

Jon pretended not to hear and walked out of the room. He’d burn his notes out back on the grill. He’d need to go pay a visit to Old Maggy.

Sansa came home around six in the morning. He heard her quietly peeking in the den at where her husband was sleeping on his foldout. He’d never share her bed again.

Jon was waiting for her on the stairs. She was rolling her neck as she tiredly climbed up towards him. She was wearing a smile though. It filled him with sweet sorrow; sweet that she could smile at him after everything and sorrow for what this precious girl had put up with for the last few years.

“C’mere,” he beckoned. He urged her to sit on the step below him between his legs. He gently rubbed her shoulders and neck, mindful of the healing bruises and welts. “I picked you up some salve for your back. It’ll take the sting out in no time.” Maggy had been generous. She’d been fond of Benjen and happy to see his nephew pay her a courteous call down by the bayou…even if it wasn’t exactly normal hours for visiting folks.

“It’s getting better but thank you, Jon.” 

“You have a good night?”

“Same as always. He give you any trouble?”

“No. He ain’t gonna give anybody any trouble anytime soon.”

Her head lolled back beneath his fingers and she gave a satisfied groan as he worked out the tension there. He could feel her relaxing at his touch. He would never frighten her if he could help it. He’d never ever hurt her. He’d never push her either. Their affections could remain familial till the day he died if she wished it to be so. But he could enjoy this, couldn’t he? He could give this sweet girl a massage to ease her aches and pains. There didn’t have to be more to it than that…even if there was for him.

But he also needed to know a few things.

While Sansa had been busy seeing to Joffrey’s discharge at the hospital and appeasing her mother-in-law the night before last, he’d had his own little chat with Dr. Luwin. He wanted to know the gossip he’d not been around to hear. He wanted to know everything the old doctor could share.

 _“I know you’re a doctor but you’re a man first. You know none of this is right, don’t you? My uncles thought a lot of you,”_ he’d reminded Luwin.

Doc Luwin was no Stark but he’d picked up on a few things over the years.

 _“You Starks are hard to kill,_ ” he’d commented wryly once when he’d treated Uncle Benjen after a run-in with a bear that no normal man would’ve survived. _“The stories of the_ _First Men have always fascinated me.  Of course...those are just stories, I guess.”_

 _“We don’t like trouble,_ ” Uncle Ned had said grimly.

_“You’ll get none from me, Mr. Stark.”_

Jon had left the doctor with far more information than he’d anticipated as well as four times the amount of pain medication that would’ve ordinarily been prescribed for Joffrey’s injury. No one would question Old Luwin.

“What’d you do yesterday evening once I left?” she asked.

“Watched TV mostly. I fetched the salve and went to the store to get you some tea since there wasn’t any here.”

“Tea?” She said it in a strangled tone.

“Yeah. The lemon-flavored one your mama used to buy.” She was staring at him funny. He hoped he’d not messed up. “Is that alright? I started to get lemonade instead. I’ll go back if you…”

Her chin was quivering when she answered. “It’s…that was so kind of you, Jon.”

Tea. Lemon Drop Tea. She deserved the finest red silk to match her hair, sapphires to match her eyes and diamonds to match the stars in the sky. She deserved all the kindness in the world but she looked like she might cry because he’d bought her a box of tea bags.

He started massaging her shoulders again. He couldn’t bear her tears just now.

“You off tonight, right?” he asked as she started to relax again.

 _“Mmm-hmm_.”

She nearly purred that response and he had to take a deep breath to keep his mind from drifting off south of his belt buckle.

“After you’ve slept and once Joffrey’s had his evening dose, you and me are going to the woods.”

“The woods?”

“Yeah. It’s time I taught you some things and we need to be where the old gods can see. I need you to bring your book.”

“The old gods? You mean our land?”

“Well, the old gods can see any old place there’s trees but our lands would be best.”

“But the Boltons…”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt ‘em,” he smiled. _The moon ain’t full. They’re no threat to me._

He kept massaging her neck and shoulders. He wondered if she could fall asleep like this. He’d carry her to bed if she did. He hated to break the peaceful spell. She was like putty in his hands now, soft and pliant and so beautiful.

He lowered his lips to the perfect shell of her ear. “Sansa, I wanna ask you about a few folks ‘round here.” She nodded, too blissful from his attentions to pick up on his tone right away. “I wanna know about old Mr. Tywin and your mother-in-law. I wanna know about Sheriff Baratheon. But first…will you tell me about Mr. Baelish?” She started to stiffen but he kept his fingers working. “It’s alright, sweet one. No one’s here but us. I just wanna know if there’s any truth to those very dirty rumors I’ve heard about Blackwater Bayou’s principal and some of his female students.”

She turned her head. Her big blue eyes were like the ocean and the black of her pupils were dragging him under the surface. _Into black water_ …

“Jon,” she whimpered. Her mouth opened but her eyes filled with tears and no sound came out. She didn’t want to talk about it. That was all he needed to know.

“ _Shhhh_ …it’s alright. We won’t mention that again.” He kissed her brow and urged her to lay back against him. He wasn’t massaging her neck and shoulders any more, just holding her. Her hands reached up and clasped his forearms tightly when he growled softly in her ear, “No one’s ever getting away with hurting you again, Sansa. Never again.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll freely admit I'm not writing Agatha Christie, Perry Mason or anything like that with this story. I'm here for blood and payback (and for Jon fucking with Joffrey before his demise.) Gil Grissom and his team of CSIs would probably have an easy time putting Jon behind bars in the upcoming chapters. But this is a work of fiction about a corrupt and fictional southern town in a fictional, alternative Westeros so we're going to have some fun. However, I would like to point out in case anyone missed it that Luwin is the town's coroner and also in Sansa and Jon's corner.
> 
> Thank you so much to all of you who are reading and I really appreciate all the kudos, subscriptions, bookmarks and most of all comments!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa recalls an unpleasant part of her past but takes comfort in Jon's presence. Together, they go visit their lands and Sansa learns more about herself. Joffrey is tiring of his house guest but not brave enough to say as much. And Petyr Baelish has reached a new pinnacle of his career.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning-hints of past abuse from Creepyfinger (kissing/inappropriate touching.) 
> 
> Also, Sansa will receive a disturbing call at work at the end of the chapter.

 

_“I like to think that if things had been different…maybe your mama would’ve married me. And then, I’d be your daddy.”_

_You’re not my daddy. You’re a monster._

Sansa’s eyes flew open and she smacked at a hand that wasn’t there. Her heart was racing as consciousness returned. She was curled up in a ball and gasping for air like she’d been drowning.

But then, she heard Jon whistling down the hall. All the panic from a moment ago bled away. It sounded like he was coming from the laundry. She wondered if he’d done the washing for her and was pleased to think he might have.

She slid her hands along the cool sheets at her side. No Joffrey in her bed. No husband by her side and no hands places they didn’t belong after class was dismissed either.

_“No one’s ever getting away with hurting you again, Sansa. Never again.”_

She exhaled, slow and steady, those words bringing her a sense of strength and reassurance.

It was time to get up. Time to make supper and tonight…it was time to learn a few things at last, maybe some of the things Jon had offered to teach her when she was fourteen years old. She found herself humming as she changed out of her pajamas, humming and eager to begin.

 

* * *

 

 

“Shit, she gelded him while he slept. That’s pretty fucking cold,” Jon laughed. “Good for her.”

“Good for her?!” Joffrey looked horrified. His hand subconsciously cupped his dick.

“Son of a bitch deserved it.”

“He didn’t do shit to her!”

“He abused her sister. Blood screams for blood. Any man who’d treat his woman that way…he deserved it.” Jon let the words sink in and then gave Joffrey a steely look, daring him to say otherwise.

“Can we watch something else?”

“Why, sure.” Jon flipped channels away from the TV movie and back to the True Crime network. He’d seen this unsolved murder episode but it was a good one. He heard Joffrey grumbling about watching the race but Jon left it there. “You okay?”

“My leg’s hurting real bad.”

“Shouldn’t have been so stubborn earlier about getting up.” _I nearly busted a gut trying not to laugh when I found you flailing in the floor again though. Gonna take time for those bones to knit and time is something you don’t have all that much of._

“You left the remote control on the other side of the room.” He started scratching around his collar. “This shirt itches. Bitch better not have used the wrong detergent,” Joffrey grumbled under his breath.

“What was that?!” Jon asked sharply. _Call her a bitch again and I’ll demonstrate a gelding for you._

“Nothing. Just my…never mind.”

Jon put his easy smile back on. “I ran a load of wash. Figured I could help Sansa out with you laid up.”

“Oh…yeah. Okay,” Joffrey scowled as he kept scratching.

Jon could see some mighty red and angry looking flesh around his collar. _Sensitive skin can be annoying for certain. Hope you don’t mind the special powder I added to your_ _load of wash. It’s all compliments of Maggy for all the kindness your sheriff’s department has shown her over the years._

“So, did you find a place to stay in town yet, Jon?”

“Are you tired of my company already?” Jon smirked.

“Uh…no.”

He knew Joffrey was beyond tired of his company. He was more than tired of Joffrey’s, tired of him breathing. But, that could wait. Jon thought Sansa might want a say in that. She deserved to say how things went for Joffrey before the end. Besides, good old Joffy would make a fine alibi tomorrow night…maybe several nights.

Jon also knew what a coward the little shit was when it came to someone he couldn’t physically overpower or intimidate. From what Sansa had said, Joffrey usually wanted a couple of armed deputies at his back before he handled any calls more serious than some irate senior citizens at bingo night or twelve-year-olds with skateboards. He liked to think he was a tough guy with his badge and gun but he needed back-up for anything more than beating his wife.

_And even then upon occasion,_ he thought with a murderous burst of wrath remembering what Sansa had said of Deputies Trant and Blount. _My, my…how that list keeps growing._

Jon had known more than one or two cravens in the Watch. A few of them had stuck a knife in his chest after all. That’s all Joffrey was. And he didn’t have a knife or gun handy since Jon had seen to it Sansa locked them up.

“I promised Sansa I’d take care of you so I guess you’re stuck with me a for a bit,” he winked.

Sansa was in the kitchen fixing supper. Jon could hear her singing and recognized the tune. It was something Aunt Cat would sing to them all when they were little. Sansa would make a fine mother someday, like her mama, he thought.

Jon had moved the fold-out sofa into the living room because Joffrey wanted to watch the big TV. That was fine. Watching the big TV would be about as exciting as Joffrey’s life would get from here on out.

_Oh, it’ll get exciting before the end. Just not how he likes._

“When’s dinner?” Joffrey hollered towards the kitchen. He was an ill-tempered son of a bitch with his leg hurting. Of course, he’d been an ill-tempered son of a bitch already but better at hiding it when he wanted to.

“Soon,” he heard her answer.

Jon was pleased to hear no fear in her voice when she answered. She would never need fear this man again.

“I’ll go see what she’s fixing. It’s about time for your medicine anyway.” _Need you sleeping soon_.

He passed through the living room to the dining room and through the swinging door into the kitchen.

“It’s hot as an oven in here,” he complained.

“Well, I am cooking,” she said with a grin.

He stood behind her where she was turning the chicken in the skillet. She had her hair up in a ponytail and a looser fitting shirt on. The welts on her back had disappeared. Maggy knew healing craft well…among other things.

But, he could still see the faint remains of the bruises that had yellowed along her neck. He scowled at those bruises. Waiting was not easy. He needed to take his mind off Joffrey.

“Smells good.” The fried chicken did smell good but she smelled better.

Without thinking too much on it, he put his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. She didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he could feel her sort of melt against him. Touching her relaxed him and seemed to relax her, too. _Nothing too wrong in that, right?_

She pinched him off a bite. “Taste this,” she said bringing it to his lips.

He closed his mouth around her fingers, licking the juice off her as he pulled the morsel into his mouth even has he knew he shouldn’t be indulging himself with her husband in the next room. He could taste the salt of her skin along with the deep fried flour and seasonings that coated the chicken. But underneath it all was the sweetness of Sansa.

He heard the hitch in her breath and took a moment to smell her hair. “ _Mmmm_ …that’s good,” he groaned.

It took her a minute to find her tongue. “Is it…does it taste as good as Mama’s?”

“Sure does.” He kissed her cheek before releasing her. He’d indulged that lusty bastard inside himself enough for now.

“Sample my potato salad, would you? Make sure it’s not too mustardy.”

“Sansa, you trying to kill me with this?” he teased after he took his bite. Her eyes widened like she didn’t know what to say. “I’m gonna gain twenty pounds staying here.”

She laughed and said, “I like having you here to spoil.”

“Well, I ain’t going anywhere.”

He fetched two beers from the fridge. She didn’t have to work tonight. They had serious business of their own to attend to but that didn’t mean she couldn’t unwind over supper. _I should get her some wine. Sansa would like wine better than beer._

“Those are Joffrey’s,” she said and for a second he knew those old fears were with her. But then, her eyes narrowed and a mischievous smile appeared. “He shouldn’t have alcohol with his pain medicine anyway.”

“Guess we’ll have to help him out with these then.”

He handed her one. She nodded and they clinked the bottles together.

 

* * *

 

 

Cersei always served wine with dinner but Sansa felt giddier from one beer that she did from the free-flowing wine at her mother-in-law’s house. She was giggling as Jon led her through the woods. Dusk had fallen and soon it would be night. She recalled the night him and Robb had taken her swimming at Lonely Lake. It wasn’t too far from here.

“Shush now,” Jon admonished though he was grinning at her giggles. “We don’t want to get too obvious. Don’t want no trouble with them tonight.”

“The Boltons? Should I be afraid?”

“No. I’m here with you and they’re at their weakest during the dark of the moon. I’m sure they still have guns though. I’d rather they never know we were here.”

She nodded obediently. She didn’t want Jon having to fight no one tonight and she sure didn’t want anyone shooting at them. He gripped her hand and it left her all breathless and quivery inside. She probably ought to tell him about the bonding charm. But would he feel like she’d tricked him somehow if she did?

On and on, they walked as quietly as she could manage through the woods. She wasn’t quite sure where they were. Nothing looked all that familiar at night. Jon would searched the stars though from time to time and he seemed to know exactly where he was leading them.

They reached a larger clearing at last.

“Here we go,” he said before he knelt.

She started to ask him if he’d found something but then saw his eyes close. He was murmuring words to himself. The hair on her arms and back of her neck started to stand on end when she felt it. This was their lands and Jon was praying, reestablishing their ties to this place that had belonged to the Starks time out of mind.

Sansa knelt beside him. She could pray, too. She wasn’t sure what to pray to the old gods for exactly though. There weren’t hymns or specific prayers like she’d learned in the sept. She decided to repeat one of the verses she’d memorized in the book Old Maggy had given her under her breath. It was a song about wolves and their pack, a song of family sheltering one another in the winter and giving succor to those in need.

When the song was done, she glanced at Jon still deep in his own reflections. He was her pack. She nearly lost him but he was here. She could not bear the thought of losing him now. She closed her eyes and prayed fervently. She prayed for the old gods to protect Jon and keep him safe.

_And keep him with me._

As she opened her eyes again, she saw Jon was already standing, watching her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, rising to her feet hurriedly for fear she’d kept him waiting.

“Why? I don’t mind waiting. You’re a lovely sight to watch, cousin.”

Sansa felt flushed from his words and the deep rasp of his voice. His eyes were dark but glittering somewhat in the woods with only starlight around them.

He sniffed the air and one corner of his mouth turned upwards. He came to stand behind her just as he’d done in the kitchen earlier. She had to suppress the urge to squirm when he placed his hands on her hips. Not because she loathed his touch like other men. No…this was quite the opposite.

_The bonding charm. You need to tell him._

But she said nothing.

“Can you hear ‘em, Sansa?”

“Hear what?”

“They know we’re here. Watch, sweet one,” he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her cheek like a feather as warmth spread throughout her body.

The howling began then, lonely at first but soon building, drawing nearer. Many voices raised in song, the song of wolves. A chorus filled the night around them.

“They’ll hear them,” she trembled, thinking of those who owned these lands now. _It’ll never really be theirs though._

He tightened his hold on her. “No, no. They won’t know why the wolves are howling tonight. You’re safe here with me tonight, I promise. I know how brave my girl is. She’s a Stark, no matter who she married.”

_My girl._ She drew a deep breath and took comfort from his touch and his words.

From the surrounding woods, a figure emerged, just like the night of the full moon.

“Good evening, sweet lady,” Jon said softly to the grey she-wolf.

Sansa’s mouth hung open in shock. How was this possible? They were miles from the Weirwood she’d ran to down by the bayou that night.

The wolf stalked towards them, sniffing the air. She gave them a keen look and tilted her head to the side like a friendly dog. But she wasn’t a dog. Her golden eyes glowed in the dark when she sat down on her haunches just a couple of feet away.

“You two have met, right?”

Sansa nodded numbly, her eyes drawn to the wolf. _My wolf_.

“Good. Time to learn about skin-changing.”

“Jon...I can’t do this. I don’t know how.”

“You’ll learn,” he said, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“But…”

“It’s inside you already, Sansa. I’m sorry I can’t show you the way exactly but I know you can do this. I’m a shapeshifter. You’re a warg. If my mama had lived, she’d have taught you how. If your daddy had lived, he’d have told you about it. But it’s just us and we’re gonna do our best with my knowledge, your book and what instinct tells us. Relax and let it take you. Don’t be afraid of your instincts, Sansa. They’ll guide you right more often than not.”

She scoffed. “I’m the one who married Joffrey, remember?”

“That wasn’t your instincts. That was other people pushing and moving you where they wanted you. Trust yourself. Now, sit down here on the ground and let her get comfortable with you. I’m gonna shift.”

“You’re leaving me?”

“Nah. Never ever leaving you, remember? I just wanna be the wolf for a bit. I’ll be right here. But, I’m gonna, uh…take off my clothes if you don’t mind. No need ruining these.”

“I won’t look till you’re a wolf,” she said as she sat down like he’d said.

It tasted like a lie the moment she said it. He chuckled and she suspected he thought the same.

 

* * *

 

 

Petyr Baelish carefully placed the shiny new plaque on his shelf. Tonight had been the culmination of many years of hard work. More like years of back-stabbing, scheming and ass-kissing. From lowly, untenured teacher to superintendent of the entire borough surrounding Blackwater Bayou in the course of twelve years.

His friendship with Tywin Lannister had been a rewarding one though Petyr knew better than to flatter himself that Tywin considered him a friend. Tywin had no use for true friendship…no more than Petyr did.

He poured a glass of wine and took a seat in his study. It was dark out tonight with an autumn storm threatening. Blackwater Bayou stayed hot till winter so thunderstorms were nearly a year-round thing only to be replaced by snowstorms for two to three months a year.

Despite the heat, he started a fire. Alone at night, he liked to gaze at the flames. They always reminded him of her hair in the sunlight.

He’d loved Cat very much. Perhaps more so once he’d learned of her betrothal to Brandon Stark. Then, she’d gone and married Ned Stark after Brandon’s death. He thought there could never be a girl who would capture his heart like Catelyn Tully…until her daughter Sansa had started high school and later been assigned to his class.

Mr. Lannister had asked if he’d help with the girl. She was reluctant to sign the papers. He’d thought maybe another adult guiding her besides his daughter might help influence her to do the sensible thing.

_“You were close to her mother, weren’t you? The girl misses her parents. She might appreciate a…friend of her mother’s spending a little time with her.”_

His brand of help was not what Tywin had had in mind perhaps but was exactly what Petyr was willing to give.

_“Mr. Baelish…”_ she’d said so tremulously, so uncertainly.

_“Call me, Petyr,”_ he’d told her before he’d kissed her the first time.

She’d been sweeter than any wine.

A flash of lightening lit up the room and then the thunder followed. The electricity went out and Petyr cursed. At least he had the fire for light. Within the next minute, the quiet of the night was shattered again but this time by a howl. He flinched. It didn’t sound like the neighbor’s little dog. It sounded like a fearsome beast. It also sounded like it was right outside his window. Could there be a wolf out there? He’d never seen wolves around his house before. He lived too close to town for that he’d thought.

Curiosity overcame his trepidation. He looked out the window but saw nothing. He’d nearly sat back down when the howl was heard again. This time it sounded like it was around the front of the house. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out his pistol. He crept from his study, down the darkened hallway and decided to take a peek out his front door.

What harm could there be in that?

 

* * *

 

 

_“Did you feel it? Did it work?” he asked excitedly as the world shifted back into place again._

_“I did!” she answered breathlessly. “I saw me! I saw me through her eyes. I saw you, too.”_

_It had just been for a minute but she’d felt herself slip inside the she-wolf. And everything had been different. Smells and sounds were amplified to an unexpected pitch. Her belly had grumbled when she’d caught the scent of a hare. She’d felt powerful, too. Sure of herself and her role as a protector and a predator. Nothing in these woods frightened her tonight._

_And Jon…she was so aware of the great white wolf, the male wolf circling them both, waking other hungers._

_“I knew you could do it!” he whooped and picked her up, spinning her and making her dizzy._

_“Jon!” she chided. “We need to be quiet. And you’re, uh…”_

_“Shit! Sorry,” he said sheepishly the next moment before setting her tenderly back down._

_Her bruises were healing though and she felt as elated as he did. But he was still naked from where he’d shifted back. He quickly snatched up his clothes and started to dress with his back turned towards her._

_Jon’s pale skin under the starlight, his back and shoulder muscles moving in coordinated rhythm as he dressed, his firm ass and powerful thighs…_

_“We’d better head back,” she said before the ache budding inside her tempted her to do something stupid._

_Sansa looked away in time to see the she-wolf loping back off into the woods again. She missed her already. What had Jon called her? Sweet lady. Lady._

 

That was last night. Tonight, she was back at work and Jon was home, likely watching Joffrey sleep. The thunder rolled in the distance and she could hear the promised rain beating on the roof of the building. The sky would be blue and clean come the morrow.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” Sansa adjusted her headset when there was no response. “Hello? Is anybody…”

“My name is…please, don’t make me do this,” she heard a man whimper in a broken voice.

“Sir? Are you alright? What’s your emergency?” Sansa heard a muffled thump followed by a sharp cry. “Hello? Sir?” She was already tapping the phone number into the system to get a location.

“My name is Petyr Baelish.” Sansa gasped. She’d never thought to hear his voice like this. There were more background sounds that she couldn’t distinguish. “I’m a…My name is Petyr Baelish. I am a pedophile. I’m sorry for what I did. I deserve to die.”

“Mr. Baelish?”

“Please don-“

Without a warning, a gunshot echoed through her headset like a canon, so loud she yanked it off with a screech. The blood drained from her face as her heart pounded in terror. Or was it something else she felt?

“Sansa? You okay, honey?” Shae asked. Others gathered around her cubicle.

“I’m…I think I just…a suicide.” Her co-workers all nodded sympathetically. They knew the job. It wasn’t unheard of. “I’m okay.”

She put her headset back on and dispatched a unit to the home of Blackwater Bayou’s brand-new school superintendent. They could clean up the mess.

_One monster down._

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon remembers a conversation with his Uncle Benjen and worries over what Sansa may think of him. Sansa has a visitor and Joffrey's not feeling so good.

 

_“Is this why you’re so eager to join the Watch when you graduate, Jon?”_

_He could lie and say otherwise but he never had been much good at lying to Uncle Benjen. He bowed his head. “Yes, sir. I figured it might be best if I got away for a couple of years.”_

_“It’s an eight year commitment. That’s more than a couple by my reckoning. It ain’t an easy eight years either.”_

_“You did it. You think I can’t handle it?”_

_“I’m sure you can…but the Watch isn’t going anywhere. You could mull it over another year or so.”_

_Jon scowled at his uncle. He’d thought he’d be more supportive of this at least. Jon thought he’d come up with a pretty good solution, too._

_Benjen let his words set a minute before he continued. “You say you ain’t done nothing about the way you feel?”_

_“No, sir. She don’t know how I feel. She’s still…she’s just a girl. It wouldn’t be right.”_

_“You’re right. She is just a girl. But she ain’t gonna stay a girl forever. In a few years though maybe, if she’s agreeable and with your uncle’s blessing, things might be different.”_

_“She’s sweet on that Royce fella.”_

_Uncle Benjen chuckled. “She’s fifteen, Jon. Ain’t you never been sweet on anyone else?”_

_Jon clenched his jaw and scuffed his foot. Of course, he had. But he’d never felt nothing for any girl like he did for Sansa._

_“Uncle Ned and Aunt Cat ain’t teaching her our ways,” he muttered._

_His uncle frowned. “I know. I don’t have no say in that. I think they…there’s a sweetness and an innocence to your cousin. Maybe it’s hard for them to see that she’s growing up and tell her some things. I ain’t got a daughter so I can’t say.” He started rummaging around his old desk._

_“Robb says Sansa talks about living down in the Bayou in a fine house someday instead of up here. An Umber boy asked her to the movies last week. Uncle Ned told him she’s too young for that but she told Robb she’d never wanna go with him anyway. Said she’d never wanna live in their old shack way up in the holler.”_

_Benjen laughed at that which only served to rile him further. Jon didn’t even own a shack._

_“I wouldn’t want her living in no shack with an Umber either. Shit, I wouldn’t want her living in a castle with no Umber. And, I’ll say it again…she’s fifteen. Things we want as kids can change. Sit down, son.”_

_Jon did as his uncle said though he was already fixing to bolt. It wasn’t easy for him admitting his feelings to anyone, even Benjen, and he’d already admitted a lot._

_Benjen found whatever he was looking for and sat next to him. “You feel a draw, a tug towards Sansa, you say?”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

_“And it started once you got old enough to shift?”_

_“Yeah. Maybe a bit before then.”_

_“And it’s more than just a, um…physical desire for her?”_

_Jon wondered how hot his cheeks could get before they caught fire. “Yes. I think I love her…more than just as my cousin.”_

_“Read up some in this then.”_

_“What is it?”_

_“Your Granny Lyarra’s journal.”_

_He’d not seen it in years. Aunt Cat was always reading it when he was a boy at her feet. Of course, by the time he was six, he’d been out in the woods more than he was ever indoors when he could help it._

_“Why do you have it?”_

_“I was hankering for my mama’s venison stew and asked your aunt if I could borrow it,” Benjen grinned. “Give it a read though. Maybe what you feel for Sansa is meant to be. Maybe she might feel it too in time. Sometimes, we just need a little patience and things will work out.”_

_Jon wasn’t sure what Benjen meant by that but he’d done more than enough talking about feelings for one night. “Moon’s nearly full tonight. Think they’ll be out?” he asked as he started turning the weathered pages._

_His uncle grimaced. “Maybe. Maybe not. You don’t fret on it. Get some sleep tonight.”_

_“Uncle Ned’s still laid up with his leg. You shouldn’t go alone. I can go with you.”_

_“You got school in the morning.”_

_“I don’t give a shit about…”_

_Benjen was a loving man and a good uncle but he was never afraid to be stern with his nephews when necessary. “You’re nearly finished with school and you’re gonna finish. And, don’t give me no back talk, boy!” he growled when Jon dared open his mouth again. “I don’t care if you’re nearly eighteen and a man grown in the eyes of our pack. You’re still living under my roof and you’re gonna get up for school tomorrow morning and every morning till you get that diploma. You hear me?”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

 

**

 

Jon awoke in the early morning light to the sound of her coming home. He wiped his eyes. His chest ached from the dream, the memory. It’d been the last time he’d seen Benjen alive.

He heard her climbing the stairs from her long night. He wondered if she’d been frightened by the call or if it’d stirred up too many bad memories. Jon didn’t worry much about what other folks thought but what Sansa thought, that meant a lot to him.

“Sansa?” he called to her softly, not sure if she’d hear.

His door opened but even in the darkened room, he could see her clearly. His eyes were sharp even when he was just a man.

“Hey,” she said, coming to sit down on the bed. “You okay?”

He reached for her hand, wanting her reassurance, her touch and to know she didn’t hate him for what he did or what he was. “I guess I should ask you that first?”

“I’m fine. The storm last night washed the world clean. It’s gonna be a beautiful day.”

There was a deeper meaning to that, he thought. He hoped so.

She squeezed his hand and then leaned down, the curtain of her red hair covering them both and filling his nostrils with its citrusy scent. She pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“He’s not gonna hurt anymore girls.”

“Never again,” he swore.

“I heard over the radio chatter that they’re calling it a suicide.”

“Well, he did make a confession right before he pulled the trigger. Men with guilty consciences, you never know when it’ll boil to a head and they just won’t be able to live with themselves anymore. And I have faith our good coroner will rule it a suicide, too.” He wouldn’t give her any more details than that. His sweet cousin didn’t need to hear them.

“Thank you, Jon,” she murmured right against his skin, sending sparks of longing running all through him.

He didn’t want her thanks. If things had been different, she’d have never been vulnerable to a pervert like that in the first place.

Half a smile appeared when he recalled the scoundrel’s shriek last night. The humid air and the building thunder had added to the tension of waiting. He’d been coiled up tight, waiting for his moment, hoping the man would get just curious enough like the proverbial cat.

Baelish had dropped his gun at the sight of the white wolf barreling into his home the instant he’d opened his front door. Even better was him pissing himself when Jon had shifted back. Buck naked and eyes red with wrath, Jon had grabbed him by the throat.

 _“We ain’t exactly met, Mr. Baelish, seeing as how I never took your political science class but I believe you’re acquainted with my cousin Sansa.”_ The man’s eyes had widened comically when Jon had shoved his own gun back into his hands. _“I’m so glad you’re armed already. I had to hang the last suicide I did.”_

Baelish had been a mite stubborn at first but Jon’s threat of letting the wolf have him instead had swayed him soon enough. She’d deserved the apology and getting disemboweled by a monstrous wolf sure isn’t a way most folks hope to go when their number is up.

“You want some breakfast, sweet one?”

“Not yet. I’m tired. I might lay down first.” She made no move to leave though. She was still holding his hand. “Joffrey’s sleeping downstairs.” Her eyes were wide and hopeful.

She never had to ask. He opened his arms wide. Did she know how much he wanted to hold her? Did she understand why?

She kicked her shoes off and curled up next to him. He pulled the covers up over them both. Soft and scrumptious smelling, he breathed her in as she promptly nestled down and fell asleep. Her hand was laying over his heart as she slept. He wondered if she realized it only pounded for her. Not because her spell had brought him back to life but because he loved her with every drop of goodness that remained in him.

_Gods, let it be enough._

He could hear Joffrey whining downstairs a little later. His pain medication would’ve worn off and he’d be wanting something to eat. But when Sansa sighed in her sleep and snuggled a bit closer, he knew Joffrey could wait.

 

* * *

 

 

Three days had passed since Mr. Baelish blew his brains out. It was still all the talk in town. More than a few girls had come forward. All of them younger than Sansa and all of them with red or reddish brown hair. There were whispers of what he’d called them in the dark.

Jeyne had looked at her worriedly when they’d met for lunch earlier today. _“I remember he was always sort of…after your mama and daddy died…”_ She’d trailed off uncertainly and Sansa had given her a noncommittal nod.

The past is like the yellowed pages of an old forgotten journal. Sometimes, we look back on them fondly. Sometimes, they sit in a drawer collecting dust and unmolested for decades. And sometimes, we burn the memories and the pages both.

No one needed to know about any of it, even her dear friend Jeyne. After all…there was still Jon to protect.

_Speaking of journals…_

Jon had told her that Benjen had had their granny’s journal the night before he’d died. Jon had stayed up late reading in it until he’d heard Benjen’s agonized howl and bolted out the door to find him. For all they knew, it was still somewhere in Benjen’s old cabin, assuming the Boltons hadn’t mess with it.

 _“It’s ours. It should’ve come to me when Mama died. I want it back, Jon,”_ she’d told him with a boldness that would’ve seemed foreign to her a moon ago.

 _“I’ll fetch it if it’s fetchable,”_ he’d promised.

When she’d come home from lunch with Jeyne, she’d found an unexpected guest in her living room. Now, Cersei refused the tea she’d made them and glared at her across the kitchen table. Sansa sat up straighter and took a sip.

Joffrey had called his mama to whine some. He hated being coddled but he also hated _not_ being coddled. Jon wasn’t going to coddle him and Sansa was making herself scarce around him as much as possible.

He’d made a very rude remark the other day about Sansa seeing to his needs on her knees in Jon’s presence. He’d been dosed up on the pain medication that Jon was administering faithfully when he wanted him incoherent but it was exactly the sort of thing he would’ve said before Jon came to stay. The very sort of thing he’d said in front of Trant and Blount and some of the others in the past to shame her.

She’d had to wrap her arms around Jon’s waist and whisper frantically in his ear to keep him still. Joffrey hadn’t even realized how close he’d come to speaking his last words.

“He needs to be getting up more. His skin’s all broke out in a rash. He could wind up with bed sores at this rate.”

“He’s sleeping a lot. I’m not sure why his skin broke out but I’m doing my best to treat that.”

That was a lie. She wasn’t actually doing anything. She was letting Jon do it. She didn’t want to touch Joffrey ever again and Jon had hinted it might be best if she didn’t. He wore gloves when he applied the salve to Joffrey’s skin. She knew where it had come from. It smelled sweeter than the stuff she’d applied to her back but the sweetness seemed a bit cloying to Sansa and underneath, there was a foul whiff of corruption. Cersei didn’t need to know about any of that.

The back door opened and Jon walked in, back from his trip to the store and maybe other places.

“Cersei, I can’t recall if you’ve ever met my cousin Jon Snow.”

“Hello, Mrs. Baratheon. It’s lovely to meet you, ma’am,” he said cordially, just as her mama had always taught them.

Cersei pointedly ignored his outstretched hand and stood. “Perhaps Joff should come and stay with me for a while.”

“Whatever you think is best, Cersei,” Sansa said, all sugar and spice.

Either way, she would not complain. She would be glad to be rid of him for a bit. He’d be coming home again eventually. Jon had said she should have a say in how it was done and she had some ideas.

Cersei pursed her lips and grabbed her fancy handbag. “I’m expecting my brother Jaime to come and stay with us for a few days. It might not be the best time. I’ll be by again soon.” She wasn’t exactly cut out to play nursemaid to anyone. Weakness annoyed Cersei. Maybe it reminded her too much of her own moments of weakness.

“Of course.”

The two women exchanged kisses on the cheek but there was not a hair of affection between them anymore. Once she had admired this woman when she was just a teenager, searching for a mother figure to ease the loss of her own. And after she’d married Joffrey, Sansa had felt sorry for Cersei. She’d witnessed enough of Robert’s rage to figure the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree when it came to the way Joffrey treated her.

But Cersei’s indifference to Sansa’s plight, the way she’d twist things to make Joffrey beating her somehow all her fault on top of the way Cersei had played a key role in getting her to sign over their lands for money that Sansa had never lain eyes on, had hardened her against her mother-in-law irrevocably.

“I hope I’ll be seeing you again real soon, Mrs. Baratheon,” Jon said cordially with just a glimmer of a smirk.

It was not so much the words but his tone that sent shivers all through Sansa. They weren’t exactly bad shivers but she probably shouldn’t be so pleased by them. She was anyway. She subtly squeezed her thighs together. _Wanton thing. Damned bonding charm_. Did he feel it, too?

Cersei didn’t know the threat that was implied though.

The pair of them stood in the kitchen listening as Cersei bid Joffrey good-bye. He was sleeping again and only snored at her in response.

“What’d you get at the store?”

“A bottle of red wine and a jug of lemonade for a sweet girl I know.” He grinned that lopsided grin of his. Why’d he have to be so damned handsome when he grinned like that? “I got this, too.”

He handed over the old journal and her heart did a funny flip-flopping as she gasped. Her eyes welled up with tears. How many times had she seen it in her mother’s hands and even her daddy’s? The old, soft leather felt as a familiar as if she was touching their hands again.

“How’d you…”

“It was still there, sitting in a box I probably tossed it in unknowingly in my grief after he died. Someone had gone through his things but not thought nothing of this. Maybe they planned on sending it to you but his cabin has sat empty for some time now, unlike your mama and daddy’s place.”

“Thank you,” she said, hugging him tight with the journal between them.

She had a piece of her family’s history back. This journal’s old yellowed pages would never be burned.

 

* * *

 

 

Sansa was off tonight. The full moon was still a week away so he figured this was safe enough. But he’d be watchful. No one was going to hurt her ever again.

Joffrey’s skin was not a pretty picture. The angry red hives and sores were spreading and the itching mysteriously worsened an hour after the salve was applied. He hadn’t caught on…not yet.

Jon would feel sorry for him if he was some other man maybe. Just today, he’d almost been tempted to bring him the Coke he’d asked for instead of the Coke Zero he gave him…almost.

His face had scrunched up when he sipped the cola out of the glass with no ice. _“This is awful.”_

 _“Maybe it went flat.”_ Jon had grinned to himself as he turned on the missing person show. _“How tragic…never knowing what became of a loved one,”_ he’d murmured under his breath.

 _“It burns,”_ Joffrey had moaned later as the pain medication wore off. _“I need to see a doctor, I think.”_

Jon had patted him firmly on the shoulder and gotten a whimpery little cry when he did. “ _We’ll see about that. Maybe Dr. Pycelle will have an opening next week.”_ Or not.

Sansa followed him through the woods, their hands linked. Her scent was haunting him and her soft skin was like a drug he needed to get by, maybe as much as the opiates Joffrey was quickly becoming addicted to. _Like father, like son_.

“Sansa? Do you think there’s any truth to those whispers about your mother-in-law and her brother?”

“Her and Jaime?”

“Uh huh.”

“Oh,” she said biting at her plump, pink lips in a delectable way. “It’s probably just ugly talk. Lots of folks harbor resentments towards the Lannisters and Cersei has made an enemy or two. I’ve only met Mr. Jaime a few times. He was nice enough to me anyway.”

 _Nice enough to speak politely maybe.  Nice enough to ignore your bruises._   He'd let that go for the moment.

“Her kids though…I may not have made an A in Biology back in school like some smart girl I know…” Even under the moonlight, he could see her flush a lovely pink at that. “…but I always heard black hair was the dominant gene over blonde.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Robert would’ve killed her in a heartbeat if any of that were true.”

“I’ll bet he would.”

“Jon Snow…”

His smile, he wondered if the shadows in the woods leant a sinister aspect to it. He cleared his throat and wiped that smile away. His sweet one didn’t need to worry about what he had in mind.

“I’m just asking. Here’s your lady,” he said as the grey she-wolf emerged from the brush to their clearing.

Sure enough, the wolf had come. Maybe she wanted to meet with Sansa again the same as Sansa was eager to meet with her. Or maybe she’d caught his scent and was looking for a male to mate with. But wolves mate for life and Jon already had one if she’d have him.

 _The heart tree_. There was the old Weirwood down by the Bayou but he wanted to take her to the old heart tree deep at the center of their lands. That was where their covenant would be made.

_Getting ahead of yourself. None of that happens till Sansa says. And you can’t wed her till she’s a widow._

_And it’d be safer if there were no fucking werewolves living up there when we go._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! Your comments are giving me such great motivation and I really appreciate them!!
> 
> This chapter had a bit of explanation and set up to it and I am honestly such a sucker for Jon and Benjen interacting that I couldn't resist that opening to explain part of why poor teenage Jon was ready to run off and join the Watch. But, for the bloodthirsty (and those who enjoy the other kind of thirst), I hope you'll enjoy the next update ;)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cousins take comfort in recalling the past though they're pushing the bounds of propriety. Sansa has an interesting call at work and the wolf takes care of some low-hanging fruit. Jon and Sansa return to the woods again but may have pressed their luck this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Brief, graphic violence in this chapter.
> 
> Thank you, Lisa, for the mood board!!!

 

* * *

 

 

It was one of those sticky autumn nights that would make no sense to anyone who hadn’t lived around the Bayou. There was a chill in the air but it was still humid out like summer.

Sansa alternately tugged her cardigan around her shoulders tighter and flapped it opened and closed to fan herself as she stood outside with Shae watching the other woman smoke.

“You want a drag?”

“No, thank you.” She wasn’t a smoker. She just liked coming out on break with Shae and talking now that she wasn’t afraid to be friendly with another woman.

“How long’s your cousin staying?”

“Forever, he says.”

Shae laughed. “No, I meant with you.”

 _Same answer_. “Oh, he’ll be looking for a place up in the Hollow before long.”

“That’s good.” Shae’s dark eyes roamed Sansa’s face and body. Shae was no fool. Even if she hadn’t been able to say or do nothing before, she knew. “I’m glad he came to stay with you, Sansa.”

Sansa felt a lump rising in her throat. She hadn’t expected to be moved by anyone else’s kindness, even if it was just a speck of it. “Me, too. He’s been such a help with Joffrey.” She bit her tongue. That could be interpreted the wrong way…or the right way actually.

Blount passed them on his way back into the station with a bag of doughnuts in hand and an unfriendly look. “Isn’t it about time you two get your asses back inside and pretend to work?”

“You ain’t our boss,” Shae answered.

“No, but you’ve had your fifteen minutes. What would Joffrey think of his wife spending time with trailer trash like you anyway?”

Once that would’ve sent Sansa scurrying away. Now, she stood her ground.

Shae flipped him off but put out her cigarette butt. He was right about their break time and it rankled. “Come on, Sansa.”

Sansa followed Shae back inside to the artificially dry air and wished she was off tonight. She wanted Jon to take her to the woods again so she could meet with the she-wolf and practice some more. She was getting better and better at it. Or maybe she’d just enjoy sitting up late talking with Jon and eating ice cream as Joffrey slept just as they’d done last night.

_And then we’d go to bed._

Every night since Mr. Baelish had committed suicide, she’d been sleeping in Jon’s bed instead of her own, claiming she sometimes had bad dreams (which was true) and that she used to get scared those rare nights Joffrey would be out on a call and she was home alone (which was a lie). Jon had swallowed both lines quick enough and she wouldn’t question why.

 _“You remember that winter when the blizzard kept us snowed in for three weeks?”_ she’d asked him when they’d laid down after eating all the ice cream last night.

_“Yeah. Me and Robb were eight?”_

_“Uh huh. I was five. It’s the first winter I can really remember, you know?”_

She’d seen him smiling in the darkened bedroom and placed her hand over his heart, comforted by its steady beating. _“Well, it was memorable. Wasn’t hardly nothing stirring in the woods the snow was so deep. The power was out a long time.”_

_“Days and days. You and Uncle Benjen came to stay.”_

_“Our firewood got low.”_

_“Ours, too. It turned off so bitter cold. Mama was worried and put the three of us in the same bed. You remember?”_

_“I remember. You kept me and Robb up talking nonstop,”_ he’d chuckled.

_“I did not!”_

_“You sure did. Aunt Cat would have to sing to us so you’d hush up long enough to go to sleep.”_

She’d laughed and Jon had wrapped his arm around her waist. _“I miss them,”_ she’d whispered as her eyes drifted close.

_“Me, too.”_

He’d kissed her forehead. She didn’t know the last time she’d slept so well.

They weren’t kids any more like back then. Lying in bed with Jon now would be considered inappropriate. But, nothing was happening that violated her marriage vows strictly speaking. She didn’t know how long that’d be the case.

The tug to move closer, to reach out and touch him was strong as he laid next to her. She’d nestle up against him and he’d hold her close but so far none of the touching had gone past what could be called familial affection. Maybe just right up against the line but not past. She was nudging closer though.

But tonight, she was stuck at work and Jon was home seeing to Joffrey.

_At least, I think he is…_

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

A female voice came on the line. “I suppose this is an emergency…kind of. I need some help anyway. I think he’s…he might be dead.” She didn’t seem exactly upset or frightened.

“Who, ma’am?”

“Doc Pycelle. I’m at his house.”

Sansa’s eyes widened as she began tapping in his address. _What a shame_ , Sansa thought not thinking it was a shame at all.

“What’s your name, ma’am?”

“I’m Lanna.”

“And you think Dr. Pycelle is…”

“I’m pretty sure. I don’t wanna get too close with the smell. He’s lying on the bed and not making a sound. I can’t go downstairs to fetch my clothes. That thing might still be in the house.”

“I beg your pardon? Could you explain that?”

It turned out Lanna worked for Chataya’s escort service which Dr. Pycelle used fairly regularly for his evening entertainment.

_“Cheap old bastard never tips and it takes for-fucking-ever to get him off.”_

The young woman then went on to say she’d had another client’s heart give out on her once a year or so ago which wouldn’t be all that surprising given Pycelle’s age but she didn’t think it could be called natural causes in this case.

“Why is that, Lanna?”

“Because of the huge motherfucking wolf that walked into the bedroom, that’s why!”

The tingling sensation started at the top of her scalp and worked its way down her spine. Sansa was barely breathing when she asked, “A wolf? In the house? What’d the wolf look like, Lanna?”

“White with red eyes! I was, um…busy and not looking but the doctor started making this weird little choking sound. At first, I thought maybe he was gonna, you know…finish up quick for a change but instead he kind of gasped and pointed. I turned around and there was the wolf. I probably screamed to wake the dead before I scrambled off the bed and curled up in the corner of his bedroom.”

“Goodness,” Sansa with a mixture of feigned surprise and concern. “Then, what happened?”

“The wolf walks right up to him and bared its fangs. Pycelle grasped at his chest and then just sort of fell back on the bed. I was sure it’d come for me next but it looked my way once and then turned around and left. But I don’t know how the damned thing got in. The door was locked as far as I could tell when he had me strip downstairs. I think the doctor shit himself from the smell. So, I’m sitting here naked with a shit-smelling corpse and would really like to get the fuck out of here, you know?”

“I can only imagine,” Sansa said and stifled the urge to start giggling at poor Lanna’s predicament. She wanted to reassure her that the wolf would never hurt her but she could hardly tell her that.

She doubted he’d still be there but, as she started to send a medical responder to the scene, her personal cell phone lit up with a text from Jon.

_I’m glad you married a cop. I feel better knowing there’s a cop around to check on any strange things at night._

She only puzzled for a moment or two before she deciphered the meaning behind those words.

“Hang on, Lanna. I’ll send some help your way.” She switched lines to the sheriff’s dispatcher. “Bandy? Who’s on duty that can go see to a call at Doc Pycelle’s?”

She knew which officers were on duty tonight. Would the gods be so kind?

“Out at Pycelle’s home?”

“Yeah…possible DB.”

“Oh, my! Well, Trant called in sick.” So the gods weren’t going to be _that_ kind. “Detective Selmy’s handling a break-in up in Winter’s Hollow but Blount just came back a few minutes ago from a doughnut run. Want me to send him?”

 _Yes…send him,_ she thought as her lips twisted into a wicked smile.

A balding, big-bellied coward hiding behind a short-temper, Boros Blount hadn’t said a word the first time he’d seen Joffrey shove her when he’d been over at their house to watch a game. And he hadn’t said a word when she’d come to work with bruises either. He’d only smiled at her contemptuously.

_Plus, he’s a giant ass._

“He’ll do fine. Tell him Pycelle had a young lady over as company and she thinks there’s a potential wild animal issue in the house.”

“A young lady, huh?” Bandy snorted.

Sansa switched back over to Lanna. “An officer’s coming out to check things out and then I’ll send someone to check the doctor. Meanwhile, I’d recommend you lock the bedroom door if you haven’t already and just sit tight, alright?”

 

* * *

 

 

Boros Blount wiped the powdered sugar off his chin and climbed out of his cruiser. That lazy ass Trant had called in sick tonight and Selmy was elsewhere. The moon was hiding behind the clouds and, though the top level of the house was lit up, the bottom level was dark as a dungeon.

He hitched up his pants that were eternally sagging, put on his hat and headed up the front walk. Bandy had said he probably had one of Chataya’s whores in there. Prostitution was outlawed years ago but Sheriff Baratheon had been ignoring the escort service for nearly ten years now since Chataya was always generous on behalf of his campaign efforts whether she was making a donation or providing free entertainment when needed. It wasn’t like anyone expected the oldest profession to just go away.

Likely, the old coot was dead. And the girl might be high and imagining things going bump in the night.

He rang the doorbell and waited for someone to let him in.

There was a soft growl from nearby and Blount looked this way and that. It was too dark to see anything. He should’ve left the cruiser’s headlights on. He punched the doorbell again and fingered his gun.

He only saw a flash of white before he felt the fangs sinking into his wrist. He stared stupidly at the bloody stump where his hand had been just a moment before. If he’d had his wits about him, he’d have known it was only shock that kept him from feeling the pain as the blood continued to spurt all over Doc Pycelle's front door. He opened his mouth to scream but no sound came out. He heard the rumbling growl and knew the creature wasn’t done yet.

 

* * *

 

  
She sat on the ground with her long legs crossed under her. The moon was drawing nearer to full and this was the last night he meant to bring her to the woods till it was waning again. He hadn’t meant to bring her tonight at all but she was persuasive with those big blue eyes and her pretty pout.

_I needed to get out anyway._

Joffrey had been annoying, chattering nervously all day about Pycelle’s heart attack and Blount being killed by some wild animal when he’d gone to investigate. He’d only half-heartedly whined about the ice cream being gone. Perhaps it had just occurred to him that police work had its hazards.

_“My daddy’s sending out extra patrols to kill any wild dogs or wolves they spot. I told my grandfather there should be a reward for whoever brings the beast down.”_

  
Neither Sansa nor Jon had commented on that. Actually, she hadn’t said a word to Jon about it at all but their eyes had met more than once after she’d got back up from resting. They both knew two more men who’d known first hand of her abuse and let it go on were dead. There was no sympathy in either of their hearts for those men.

He'd waited till Blount was bleeding out on the front porch to shift back. He’d got right in his face to make sure the fool understood his words.

_“Maybe you wanna know why you’re dying tonight, Deputy. You wanna know, don’t you? Well, I’m gonna tell you.”_

And, he had.

He watched her pretty blue eyes roll back in her head. The she-wolf’s eyes flashed white for just a second and then looked golden as always. Nevertheless, Sansa was in her. He could not sense it the same way he could when he was a wolf but he could tell all the same.

This was the first time he’d let her try it without shifting into his wolf form. She trusted Lady, as she’d named her, implicitly and swore she wouldn’t hurt her.

_“Lady’s good, Jon. She’d never harm me.”_

_“She gave you quite a scratch the night you met her.”_

_“Only cause I begged.”_

The wolf prowled around the forest floor sniffing this and that before coming over to nuzzle into his neck.

“You’re a sweet girl,” he chuckled, rubbing her muzzle affectionately and then daring to scratch her ears as if she was a dog. “I don’t know if you’d let me do this if that weren’t Sansa inside your head though.” _But I know you’d let me mount you as the wolf. I may have to disappoint you there since I’m not sure what Sansa would think of that._

The wolf walked on to see other sights and smell other smells and Jon was left alone with his cousin’s body. She was rigid as she sat, her eyes a strange milky white. It was just as Uncle Ned and Uncle Benjen had described it to him as a boy. He wished they’d been able to tell her about it. He wished his mama had lived to teach her even more.

He let his own mind wander elsewhere.

 

**

 

_He had just started learning to shift but control was not easy for him. The wolf would make unwelcome appearances at time, especially if Jon became angry or emotional._

_The other day at school he’d barely made it outside his classroom claiming he was about to throw up when a great white wolf had appeared in the school hallways. Luckily, none had seen him though his clothes had been ruined and he’d had to run home half naked. Aunt Cat had kept him home a couple of days after that, telling the school he’d caught the stomach flu. He hadn’t thought the word bastard could still make him that angry._

_But here in the woods, he had no worries._

_The campfire crackled and though he was growing drowsy with his belly full of roasted hare, Jon sat sharpening a stick with his pocket knife, eager to hear all his uncles had to say._

_“Why can’t Mama do it?” Robb asked._

_“Your mama’s a fine lady, a good wife and mother, Robb,” Uncle Ned answered. “But the blood of the First Men ain’t in her.”_

_“Tully’s are damned fine swimmers though,” Uncle Benjen chuckled. His uncles shared a laugh over that which the boys didn’t quite understand._

_“What about my daddy’s blood?” Jon asked. He’d been wondering about the other side of his family some since the taunts the others had made about him and his daddy’s kin at school._

_Both of this uncles looked sorrowful then. “Once they were powerful and wealthy we’ve heard, back in the place they were from but they fell on hard times after they came here,” Uncle Benjen said._

_“They fell on hard times of their own making,” Uncle Ned added sternly. Jon knew his uncle would never forgive his father for ruining his little sister, leaving her pregnant and unwed as he went off and got himself shot in some brawl. “But you don’t need to worry none, Jon. Whatever good there is in them is with you as well as your mama’s blood, our blood. And who knows? Maybe your daddy’s kin have gifts of their own.”_

_They were just humoring him and it pissed him off. “No, they don’t!” he yelled as he stood and threw down the stick. “They ain’t got shit! Half of them are in the loony bin! They’re nothing but arrogant, inbred assholes and I hate them!”_

_“Jon!”_

_They were all on their feet surrounding him, putting their hands on him. He felt it building, longing to get out. He wanted to let it out. They were on their lands with little fear of their secret being exposed. What would it matter?_

_“You need to control it, Jon. It can’t own you, son,” Uncle Ned said softly in his ear. “You’re the wolf but the wolf ain’t you.”_

_Dimly, his uncle’s words registered through his rage. If he truly wanted to be a Stark, he’d have to act like one._

_But before the wolf left him be completely, he caught a familiar scent. Stark men could smell in their human form far better than most men but the wolf was still superior._

_“They’re here,” he murmured under his breath at his cousin and uncles. “I smell ‘em.”_

_“Get in the tent, boys.”_

_“We could help you, Daddy.”_

_“Get in the tent, Robb! You ain’t learned control yet and you’ve not taken the covenant. Neither of you are ready to fight!”_

_And without another word, his uncles shifted and left the two of them standing there dumbstruck and useless._

 

**

 

“Jon?”

He roused from his memories and found himself looking into blue eyes once more, blue eyes that were wide and frightened.

“Something’s not right,” she said.

He leapt to his feet as soon as he realized what it was. He should’ve known better than to risk this tonight no matter how prettily she’d begged after supper.

“Is it them?” she asked, standing up to join him.

“Come on,” he said, grasping her hand.

“I could help you…through Lady.”

“You’re gonna help me by doing as I say.”

“I’m not helpless,” she said stubbornly.

He could hear the bitter disappointment at being told no. He remembered the feeling. But his uncles had been right back then and he was right now.

“I never said that and I never would. But, Sansa, if she dies while you’re in her, I can’t say for sure what will happen. You’re still learning and they’re bigger and stronger than her.” He cupped her cheek. “Please, sweet one…I can’t fight my best if I’m fretting for you. Let’s go.”

She’d always been more sensible than him or Robb. He heard no further arguments and felt her slipping her hand into his own. They raced through the woods, a headlong flight. He preferred to take them down individually and, even if he was willing to face them both at once, he’d never choose to do so with Sansa here.

One howled and then the other. They were drawing nearer.

“I’m sorry to say you’re slow, Sansa.” Despite her fear, she took a second to roll her eyes at him which pleased him to a ridiculous degree. “Time for a ride, cousin.”

He shifted and, though he could sense her fear better as the wolf, she did not hesitate to scramble up on his back.

Once he felt her fists gripping the scruff of his neck firmly, he bounded off through the woods leaving the howling beasts behind.

 

* * *

 

_She was afraid and yet not. They were in danger and yet she was confident they were going to escape. This had to be a dream._

_The powerful beast was between her legs. She gripped him tightly and held on. In her mind, the fur became flesh._

_She whimpered and felt his mouth close across the back of her neck as he mounted her. The pain was sharp but fleeting as he filled her. She howled and hoped her womb would quicken._

_Her breasts were heavy and her belly was swollen. Milk was leaking down her stomach and he lapped it away with his tongue, his dark eyes tender._

_Lady stood by her side. She was naked before the heart tree, her long auburn hair hanging down her back in the moonlight as he stalked out of the woods. He shifted and it was Jon, naked as his name day and come to claim her. The old gods and Lady would witness their union…their covenant._

_They knelt and she wept for the ones who weren’t here with them. Jon held her hand and then kissed away her tears. The gods had willed this from the start. None would ever dare come between them again._

_“You’re mine, sweet one, and I’m yours. Now and always,” he rasped in her ear as they consummated their vows. Their pack would not only survive but grow._

 

**

 

Sansa awoke, hot and flushed and with an ache so beautiful and terrible she wondered if anyone had ever died of unsated desire. She panted and squeezed her legs together, arching her back. She felt her ass make contact with something.

_Someone._

He was right there and she wanted him…needed him so badly.

“Jon? Are you awake?” She barely recognized her own voice, so low and husky with her craving.

He said nothing but she felt his arm come around her waist. His breath was hot and quick on her neck. He waited. She was on fire.

“Please.”

His hand slipped down the front of her pajama bottoms. She was already sopping wet. She spread her legs wantonly, desperate for what only he could bring her and reared back again. His cock was rock hard against her fleshy bottom. He laid one kiss on the side of her neck and she reached back, burying her hand in his curls.

The instant his hand closed over her mound and his thumb swiped her clit, every nerve in her body exploded with pleasure.

Her cry of ecstasy was muffled by her pillow.

The next was swallowed by his mouth.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon recalls what he's learned of werewolves and the Boltons before waking to find Sansa in a needy state.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay but I didn't want to post a WIP update during drabblefest! 
> 
> This chapter focuses mainly on Jon and Sansa's relationship before we dive back into some more mayhem and murder...

 

_“They’re not like us, boys. They can’t control when they change. The beast takes over and it’s all they are then. They’d kill their own kin and not think twice of it. They can’t stop the things they do. Now, I ain’t saying all of ‘em are evil. Some of ‘em hate what they are and they try and keep away from innocent folks when the full moon comes. But the Boltons, they revel in it. Old Roose loves the power. Domeric was powerful but obedient to Roose up until he died. But Ramsay…that boy just likes causing pain.”_

_“But we’re more powerful than them, ain’t we, Daddy?” Robb asked._

_“Your uncle and I are enough of a match for them most times but I won’t lie to you, boys. At the full moon, when their strength is at its zenith, they are formidable foes.”_

_Uncle Ned lifted his shirt. Both of his uncles were tough men and bore several scars. Jon had once asked Benjen if he’d fought in a war when he was with the Watch. Uncle Benjen had laughed and ruffled his hair. “Not with the Watch, boy.” He said he’d fought but not in any war Jon had read about in school. Now, it dawned on Jon what his uncle had meant._

_“Healing quick comes in handy,” Uncle Benjen said with a wry grin._

_“It does,” his brother said solemnly, “but we are not invincible. There were once three sons of Rickard Stark.”_

_Jon felt the goosebumps rise up along his arms. He’d never known what had happened to his Uncle Brandon. He’d just been raised with the knowledge that his uncle had died a year or more before his mama and accepted it without question. But, he’d died fighting for their pack and Jon was ashamed for not knowing that sooner._

_“You’re gonna have me and Jon helping you soon, Daddy.”_

_Jon sat up straighter at that and felt pride humming through him. His cousin was right. Four wolves could easily take on the two werewolves, even with the full moon._

_“You’re both thirteen,” Uncle Ned chuckled. “Neither of you will be doing any fighting, gods willing, till you’re sixteen and you get your mark. And, you’re forgetting something else, son. All they have to do is bite someone to make them what they are. They could have an army if they wanted one.”_

_Jon earlier pride went out like a candle in a breeze. “But they don’t have no army, do they, Uncle Ned?”_

_“No, Jon, they don’t. Roose don’t like sharing his powers with no one but his boys…and even that has gone sour on him. He don’t want no competition to his status as head of his pack. But someday, there could be a new alpha.”_

**

Jon had fallen asleep with his uncle’s words running through his head. After their near miss earlier in the woods, he’d just wanted to lie down and hold her, grateful she was safe while cursing himself for ever taking her there this close to the full moon.

_Getting too full of yourself. Think scaring an old man to death and slaughtering a fat pig makes you all-powerful? She expects you to use your brain. Use it. They’ll know something was there tonight, more than just a human._

Werewolves had as keen a sense of smell as he did.

But it wasn’t his scent he was worried about them tracking. It was hers. If they got curious enough, they could even discover it was Sansa. Jon doubted Roose Bolton was dumb enough to chalk up the daughter of Ned Stark being on their lands, which should be _hers_ by rights, as just happenstance.

Uncle Ned had always said Roose Bolton was cunning and remorseless. He’d wanted the Stark lands for a long time. He held hopes that the magic of the First Men which lingered by their heart tree might help him find a way to control what he was and become the monster whenever it suited him. So far, he’d not achieved that but he had managed to finagle his way into owning their lands with Tywin Lannister’s help.

Jon wasn’t certain how their partnership had been formed precisely but his aunt and uncle’s death, followed by Robb’s somewhat random shooting during a hold-up, had turned out awfully fortuitous for them both, it seemed. They were all slated to die but it might bring him and Sansa some healing to know the full story there first.

His son Ramsay was a different brand of trouble. He’d been a couple of years ahead of him and Robb in school but he wasn’t what Jon would consider terribly cunning. He was cruel and mean and his uncles had always warned the boys not to tangle with him if they could help it.

_“You’ll tangle with him enough in the woods.”_

But that wasn’t Jon’s only concern tonight and now he was cursing himself in another way.

He’d awoke just before her, throbbing with need. That wasn’t anything unusual but something was different tonight.

Even though he normally saw to himself in the shower before they laid down, his cock would often wake before him when he’d been sleeping next to Sansa these past few days and nights. When it did, he’d just scoot further away from the object of his desire to leave her in peace.

He should’ve remembered about soul mates and the moon cycles from what he’d read in Granny Lyarra’s book all those years ago. The full moon was nearing. His blood, his cock in particular, called for his mate. Gods only knew how he would endure the next few nights with her beside him.

When she reared her ass back against him though, hunger was stirred to an unbearable pitch and he realized it wasn’t just his. He could smell her arousal. He could hear it in her voice when she said his name. Her whole body trembled with want…and she wanted him.

 _She wants this_ , he told his conscience. _You could make it about her pleasure. Give her something she’s been denied by that asshole_.

Her skin was smooth as silk under his rough, callused palm when he moved down between her legs to the damp heat there. He closed his eyes, imagining the fire-kissed curls covering her mound and pictured pressing his lips to them. He gently kissed her neck instead, inhaling the sweet nectar of Sansa filling the bedroom. It left him more intoxicated than any liquor he’d ever sampled, even the heady shine him and Robb had filched from Umber’s still as boys. He burned to taste her.

Her fingers twisted through his hair almost painfully as her legs clamped shut around his hand. In a matter of seconds, she was writhing and squirming beneath his deft fingers and mewling into her pillow. She shuddered and he knew she had come.

“Look at me, my girl,” he growled in her ear.

She turned her head towards him. Her eyes were black pools in the low lighting of the bedroom, her breath coming in pants. She’d come but she could come again.

He leaned towards her, one achingly slow fraction of an inch at a time. If she turned her head or spoke, he’d stop. He wouldn’t kiss her without her consent. Far too many kisses had been forced on his sweet one, he figured. She would never be kissed by anyone whose kisses she didn’t want again.

_How chivalrous of you considering you’ve got your hand between her legs._

“Sansa?”

He meant it as a question but it sounded an awful lot like begging. He was not above begging for her.

She exhaled softly and tilted her head forward just a touch. He closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, pressing his dry lips to her soft ones.

Kissing Sansa was liking nothing he’d ever known. Everything about it just felt right in a way no other kisses ever quite had.

_Because this is what has always been meant for us._

He’d been a stupid boy to try and run away for fear of her rejection. If only he’d known patience then and listened to Benjen that night, he never would’ve left home.

_I could’ve been protecting her all along._

The ache in his chest was painful, too painful to focus on when Sansa was here in his arms.

Their lips brushed once, twice, three times hesitantly before passion consumed them both. He covered her mouth with his and down below his hand began teasing her slick folds once more.

She was so wet and warm. If he spent too much time thinking about how she might feel wrapped around something other than his finger, he’d make a mess of his shorts. He sucked on her full bottom lip and thought of sucking something else.

 _That’s not helping_ , he thought, chuckling to himself.

She didn’t know the exact current of his thoughts but she was soon laughing quietly, too. Her sweet joy and laughter…his heart swelled with love.

She moaned softly as his fingers pumped in and out. She was so tight on just his fingers. He figured he’d go cross-eyed if she was this snug on his cock. His thumb rubbed her clit and she started bucking her hips, chasing her peak. He nuzzled her throat and jaw, sampling every inch of skin that he could reach. He drew back to see her face. Her hair was spread out across his pillow like a fan. Sansa lying in his bed, leaving her sweet fragrance on his sheets and her slick coating his fingers. This was where she belonged.

His other hand cupped a breast through the thin top she wore. Her nipple was pebbled and she arched into his hand seeking more as he teased it.

“Fuck…you’re so beautiful, Sansa. Come for me, my sweet girl. I want you to come again,” he murmured against her mouth.

As if she’d been waiting for the encouragement, she came. He drank down her cries as she was pulsing around his fingers once more.

For a minute or so afterwards, her eyes were unfocused and her expression was blissful.

He could tell the instant consciousness returned.

She buried her face in his chest with a gasp. His hand slipped from her pajama pants and he felt her shaking. He pulled her close, murmuring sweet words in her ear with hopes of assuaging any unpleasant emotions. Whatever his convictions regarding his future with her, Jon understood this was not a simple thing for her. No matter how much she loathed Joffrey, he was still her husband and Sansa had been raised to respect those vows.

“Would you excuse me?” she whispered on the verge of tears.

His arms released her at once. He would never hold her down. She rose and fled to his bathroom. His heart felt lacerated by her quiet sobs.

He turned on the bedside lamp before standing outside the bathroom door, pacing back and forth, debating about whether or not to knock. The water was running in the sink so he was surprised when she opened the door suddenly a moment later.

She squinted from the light. There was only the nightlight burning in the bathroom. “I’m sorry, Jon.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

“I shouldn’t have used you that way.”

“You didn’t use me.” _And I’m yours to use anyway you please_. He wouldn’t add that bit just now. “Sansa…will you come and talk with me?” She turned off the sink and joined him on the bed. Her scent lingered in the air, invading his thoughts with licentious desires. He had to shake his head to clear it some. “I know this must be hard for you with him downstairs…”

“But it wasn’t hard at all. That’s what I’m so conflicted about. I meant to be a good wife…”

“I know you did.”

“But he was awful.”

“More than awful. A monster.”

“Yes. I don’t love him. I’m not sure what I felt for him back then was ever really love.  And now...I hate him.”

“He was never worthy of your love.”

“I don’t want him but he is my husband. Shouldn’t I feel worse about this?”

“He ain’t worthy of your guilt either, Sansa.”

“You’re right. Jon…I wanted you and you were there. I want you still.” He liked that line of thinking. “That’s just it though. I’m not supposed to want you, am I? You’re my cousin…”

“What’s that matter? Plenty of cousins, uh…kiss. Some even wed.” Her eyes widened at the last word and he wet his lips with his tongue to express his nerves.

“Well, I guess it doesn’t but you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.”

“Sansa, I’d still be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“But, I asked the gods to get me away from him, not to make you into a killer.”

“I could’ve always been a killer. Wolves don’t have wooden teeth, sweet one.”

“And how many murders did you commit before my spell?” she asked with one eyebrow raised and a hand on her hip, reminding him far too much of Aunt Cat in that instant. She had him there.

“Do you…are you angry about the things I’ve done?” He felt like he’d cracked opened his chest and exposed his beating heart to her by asking it. “Do you hate me? Do you hate what I am?” He couldn’t bear to hear her say yes. He couldn’t bear not to ask even more.

“Never, Jon. I’m not angry and I could never ever hate you.” He lifted his eyes slowly to her face, searching for any sign of a lie. There was none and he knew his heart could keep beating. “But, this is all my fault…what happened tonight. I screwed up with my spell and everything is muddled between us because of it.”

“I’m here. From what I can tell, you did just fine. How do you reckon you screwed up exactly?”

“I’ve been keeping something from you.” She bit her lip and her chin trembled. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears again. “I’m afraid you’ll be mad at me.”

“Impossible. Tell me what’s worrying you so I can fix it.”

She stood and left the room and he nearly followed her but she was back with her book soon enough, the one Old Maggy had given her.

“That night by the Bayou…the wind kicked up and the pages must’ve turned while I was reciting the spell.” She held out the book like it was a school paper she’d received a bad mark on and had been hiding from him like a naughty child. Her chin was tucked but she tapped on the page. “It’s a bonding charm.”

Jon scowled and read the page. He started chuckling when he finished.

“Jon?” He covered his mouth and bit down on his lip to keep from laughing louder. “It’s not funny! I…”

“I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I asked Uncle Benjen about bonding charms once. He said they never worked worth a shit for any couple who weren’t already soul mates.”

“Soul mates?”

“Sansa…” He urged her to sit back down. He cupped her cheek and rested his forehead against hers. “Look at me, sweet one.” Her big blue eyes met his and he felt himself drowning all over again. “I reckon I’ve been bound to you since I was around fifteen or so. And when you had your first moonblood…gods, I burned for you and felt so much shame over it. I thought of you so much and it only got worse as I got older. When I was seventeen, that time me and Robb took you swimming, I’m sorry to say I peeked when you asked me to turn around so you could take off your clothes.”

“You did?” she gasped.

“I most certainly did. Your panties were blue and had little flowers all over them.”

She snickered but quickly turned serious again. “But you…after Uncle Benjen died, you grew so distant.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to handle all those feelings then.” He took her hand in his. “I worried you’d never feel the same way about me. Granny Lyarra’s journal says a lot about soul mates. Did you ever read any of that?”

“I did some. I was younger but Mama would encourage me to read the journal. I remember some of the stories were quite sad.”

“Yeah, some of them are. When you were fifteen and liked that other boy and wanted to live down here in the Bayou, I convinced myself that we were destined to be one of the sad stories, sad for me at least. I feared we were a mismatched pair.”

“Mismatched pair?”

“Uh huh. That you were my soulmate but I wasn’t yours.”

“Oh.” Sansa stood and rung her hands together.

He sighed and felt the familiar heaviness settling in his chest. He’d hoped since they’d reunited that maybe they weren’t one of the sad stories. Perhaps their story was just bittersweet with the sweet coming at the end. _After I kill Joffrey_.

But she was looking so perplexed and that old doubt crept back in.

She’d been the apple of her daddy’s eye from the moment she was born. Sweet Sansa in her pretty dresses, singing on her way to the sept with Aunt Cat. Uncle Benjen, Robb, the Umbers and Reeds…everyone who knew her loved her. She was met with indulgent smiles wherever they went in the Hollow.

And he was her bastard cousin, probably as mad as the rest of his daddy’s kin. Often barefoot and always filthy as he scampered through woods like a wild animal. Wailing when it was time to come in and take a bath or get his hair cut. How could he ever be good enough for her?

He watched her standing there in his bedroom, staring off in the distance as if she was thinking things through. Was she trying to think of a kind way to tell him she didn’t feel the same?

However, before he could let his hopes get dashed completely, she sat back down again…and this time she sat in his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her hand softly stroked his beard. She leaned forward and he put his arms around her waist as his heart rammed against his ribcage. She kissed him with loving tenderness.

He blinked and probably looked half-stupefied when she shyly pulled away. Her eyes were wide and blue. He knew if there really were seven hells, he’d happily walk through them all for her if she told him to. Maybe bonding charms weren’t complete horseshit. Either way, she was his mate, now and always.

“I was worried the bonding charm was what drew you to me. I thought maybe it was the reason I felt this way but when I flowered, you brought me a box of tea. I remembered believing that it was something special.”

He didn’t know what to make of that. It was just a box of tea. “Your mama asked me to fetch it.” He winced when he said it, as though she might think he was disputing her and trying to take away something that’d been special to her.

“But then you brought me a box the other day, just ‘cause you remembered I liked it.”

“Because I love you and want to make you happy.” He tightened his hold on her, resting his forehead against hers, and said it again, “I love you, Sansa. I want to make you happy.”

Her smile was more glorious than the sun shining on a field of freshly fallen snow and lighting up the world with a million sparkly diamonds. She kissed his cheek. “That night at Lonely Lake…I was just fourteen.”

He hung his head. “I know. You were too young for me and I…”

“But, I wanted you to peek at me, Jon. I wanted you to kiss me in the water. It was the first time I ever had feelings quite like that. The first time I think I felt true sexual arousal…even with Robb right there.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I…I dreamed of it the night before I begged the gods for a protector. I woke up wet just from the memory of that night, Jon.”

“So, you’re saying…”

“That maybe you’re right about soul mates and Uncle Benjen was right about bonding charms. I didn’t fully recognize what it was when I was younger but now…it makes sense to me. I’d like to read up in Granny’s journal more but I think, despite all the bad, we might still be one of the happier tales in the end.”

“Gods, I hope so. I’d sure like it to be true. But what about what happened tonight? Are you still upset?”

“What happened tonight? No, I’m not upset anymore. But, I reckon we’re both tired and should get some more sleep now.”

“Right,” he said and hoped his disappointment wouldn’t show too much.

“But first, I’d like more kissing,” she said with a delightful twinkle in her eyes

“I’d like that, too.”

He kissed her heartily and then relished her squeal when he rolled them over onto the bed. He was poised above her, softly dropping kisses along her cheek when she stiffened just a touch.

“Jon? I don’t want to…you know. Not yet.” Her eyes dipped down between their bodies and then flitted over towards the hallway. He knew what she was thinking.

“No, no…not that. Not till you’re ready, sweet one.”

She relaxed in his arms and he pressed his lips to hers again.

_Not till you’re ready. And, not till he’s dead…or close enough._

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa visit the Reeds and learn a new name to add to Jon's list. Meanwhile, Joffrey must be dreaming those sounds coming from upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning-there's a description of a dead body that's a wee bit macabre.

 

_Jojen Reed was the shortest boy in her grade and skinny as a whippet. Actually, he was smaller than most all of the kids at W.H. Intermediate but he didn’t appear concerned about what others said or thought. Sansa couldn’t quite understand that. She was always conscious of how others might see her or what they might say. He was smart as a whip but sometimes acted peculiar. For ten, he seemed wise beyond his years. She didn’t know much of what to say to Jojen but Sansa thought he was a nice boy._

_But one day, some boys were picking on Jojen and pushing him around after school when she was waiting on Robb and Jon. Sansa had tried to get them to stop and they’d laughed at her. One even shoved her to the ground as another one punched Jojen. She’d been half tempted to sit there and cry but instead she got to her feet and ran for help. Once she’d brought Robb back with her, those boys had run off in a hurry. Her brother was older and bigger than any of them. No one messed with Robb. She was very proud to be his little sister._

_Robb and Jon had walked Jojen home most days after that and let her tag along. Jojen hadn’t seem too bothered by what had happened but he’d been her friend from then on._

_“Why were they being so mean and rotten?” she’d asked her daddy after they’d come home that day and told him about it._

_“Some children think pushing others around is what makes you strong. They like the power of feeling better than others. They’re wrong. Some folks never outgrow it unfortunately. I’m proud of you trying to stick up for the boy, Sansa.”_

_She loved pleasing her beloved father. She’d also had a few questions. “Do the Reeds really practice Black Magic and Voodoo, Daddy?”_

_“Is that what them boys said?”_

_“Yes, sir.” They’d said that and worse. They’d called him a bog-dwelling frog lover with moss growing between his toes. Sansa would be horrified if anyone had said such a thing to her._

_“You can call things different names without ever really knowing what it is,” Daddy had said. “The Reeds know their swamps. They know every plant and animal that grows and thrives there. They know some good medicine that…well, it’s not the same as the medicine Dr. Luwin practices. Howland Reed saved my life once actually.”_

_“Really?”_

_“Yes. I got hurt bad once on a, uh…hunting trip. Howland’s medicine helped me heal up. Don’t you listen none to them other boys. The Reeds are some of the finest folks you’ll ever meet, Sansa.”_

_Sansa had never forgotten her daddy’s words._

 

* * *

 

“Jon and I didn’t mean to impose on your supper. This is too kind of you, Mrs. Reed,” Sansa said politely as they gathered at the table.

“Call me Jyana, child. Howland and I are happy to have you at our table.”

“How’re Jojen and Meera doing?”

“Oh, they’ve gone off up North. Said they wanted to see some of the world before settling back here.”

“I’m sure you miss them.”

“We do miss ‘em. We’ve been missing y’all up ‘round here, too. _Mmmm_ …looks good, ma cher,” Mr. Reed said to his wife as he sat down.

Sansa schooled her features to conceal her distaste as he set the platter of fried frog legs on the table. She’d never liked them. It was true they didn’t taste all that different than fried chicken but the idea of them always set her stomach to churning.

Without a word, Jon pushed the platter of crusty bread her way and dished some of the corn and kale salad onto her plate. She shot him a grateful smile and tore off a hunk of bread. He knew her so well.

“Been long time since I seen you, girl. Say your husband’s laid up?”

“Yes, sir. He broke his leg in a fall. Jon’s been helping me take care of…”

The Reeds were staring with their mossy green eyes. She felt an uncomfortable pang at their scrutiny. What would they think of it all?

Jyana was giving her sympathetic looks. Telling Jon had been hard in a way but this was different. These were her parents’ and uncle’s friends. Would they think her a weak girl? Pity her?

Sansa knew it wasn’t her fault but it was embarrassing opening up to others with the truth of her marriage. She didn’t want to talk about Joffrey and the things he’d done tonight. Jon had said it was important to see the Reeds though.

“He’ll be laid up for a good while still,” Jon jumped in, taking away the pressure to keep talking. He did indeed know her well. “How’re things up in the holler?”

Mr. Reed shook his head. “Not what they was. Things ain’t the same with no Starks in Winter’s Hollow, Jon. Folks been missing your uncles something fierce.”

“Boltons causing trouble?”

“You damned right, they is. When your uncles were around, no one worried too much about being out at night during the full moon. Man or maid, didn’t matter. As long as you didn’t stray into unwelcome places, no need for worries. But now? Fucking Boltons,” the older man hissed.

“Howland,” Jyana scolded. “Mind your language at my table.” Mr. Reed nodded to his wife and she turned to Sansa, offering the ladle. “You wanna try a little of this cocodril gumbo, child?”

“Uh…yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

The Reeds lived in the southern-most tip of Winter’s Hollow and had for generations. Nobody had ever tried to make a move on their lands. Nobody really wanted them as far as Sansa knew. It was the swampiest section of the Hollow. Lizard lions, poisonous frogs and marsh as far as the eye could see; the Reeds had that in abundance.

They were looked down on by some of the other folks up in the Hollow but her daddy’s opinion had carried far more weight with her.

“What if I said we’re moving back here?” Jon asked as plates grew emptier and bellies were filled.“What would the other folks ‘round here think?”

“You and Sansa?”

“Uh huh.”

“Your family’s land?”

“Yes, sir.”

Howland’s eyes narrowed and then a mischievous look appeared. “Will Sansa’s husband be coming to live up here, too?”

Sansa sucked in a deep breath, worried about what Jon might say.

“Nah. Just my cousin and me. Not him,” he said with a certainty that made her pulse quicken.

Howland chuckled. “I ran into Maggy down by the bayou and thought that might be the case. You looking for some support then?”

“Yes, sir. Uncle Ned thought a lot of you. I know you don’t want trouble but…”

“Ain’t no trouble to me. I loved your uncles and aunt. Your mama was a good woman, too, Jon. One of the best women I ever met. I’ll go pay a call to Big Jon and Old Wull in the next couple of days.”

“Thank you. Maege and Jeor, too maybe?”

“Oh, yeah. Hadn’t seen them Mormonts lately. I reckon I could sit a spell with them. Maege always liked your crawfish pie, ma cher.”

“I’d be happy to whip one up for her,” Jyana said with a grin. “Sansa, honey…help with these dishes. I’ve got some mushrooms I picked this morning that I believe your husband might enjoy.”

Sansa and Jyana had spent time talking in the kitchen for a while after that.

_“They fry up nice and are so flavorful dunked in rémoulade. But they’re pretty rare and you gotta take care with 'em. Wouldn’t want him to eat ‘em all at once.”_

It was nice having a motherly woman to speak to about everything. It made her ache for her mama but very glad she’d come tonight. Daddy was right about them being fine folks.

When they’d rejoined the men in the parlor, Mr. Reed had been smoking a pipe and showing Jon some old maps and talking about the people and their lands.

“What was all that exactly? The Umbers and Wulls and Mormonts?” she asked when they were heading home and alone again.

“You said I shouldn’t fight the Boltons alone.”

“I was talking about me. I could help with Lady. Are you telling me they’re all shapeshifters?”

“No, but some of them have a bit of the old blood in them, too. And I’m not aiming for them to fight with me like that exactly. But some folks might think the Boltons got our lands fair and square. We need to win over the people here if we’re going to reclaim our lands, don’t you think?”

She felt her face splitting into a big grin. “That was…that’s really smart, Jon.”

He grinned right back at her. “Well, my smart girl has good ideas. You said we needed some help and it made sense.” She kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry though. I won’t let it go to my head.”

They laughed together for a moment until she recalled the last bit Jon had asked Mr. Reed about.

“What about the other stuff he said to you?”

Jon’s grin disappeared and there was that flash of red in his eyes again. “Yes. About that…”

 

* * *

 

 

“ _What kind of kiss you mean?”_ she’d asked so sweetly as she writhed under him with her nails scraping lightly at his scalp.

His head had raised up from where he’d been suckling one pink-tipped tit and he’d grinned. _“It’d be better if I could show you.”_

“Oh, gods…I’m… _uhhh_ …”

He felt her legs trembling where they were thrown over his shoulders. Her silky smooth thighs would make very fine ear warmers come winter.

“Shit, Jon…”

Not once in his entire life had he heard Sansa use profanity. If he’d still been a green boy, that alone might’ve been enough to make him come. But he wasn’t a kid and he was too focused on his task at the moment, still not quite able to believe she was allowing him to do this tonight.

They’d been kissing and cuddling the past few of nights. Sometimes more would happen. A lot of times actually. This was just more than what had happened so far.

The full moon had made her needy and he wanted to give her everything she needed. Granted, the full moon had passed but neither of them seemed keen to stop this bedtime exploring.  She was his and he was hers, no matter if Joffrey still breathed.

He glanced up from her wet pussy to watch her fondling her perfect tits as his tongue teased her nub some more. Her mouth fell open and her back arched. She was right there.

“Don’t hold back none now, my girl,” he mumbled against her folds.

She didn’t. He heard it. He tasted it.

His jeans were unbearably tight and grew damp when she cried out his name. He’d shed them once they nestled down for sleep. Right now, he wanted to kiss her mouth with her cunt still flavoring his tongue.

Her eyes had the unfocused, dreamy look like they always did afterwards. There was nothing more satisfying than knowing he could make her forget everything that way.

“That was…I ain’t never had that kinda kiss.”

“Well, I’m glad you let me show you even more now.”

“I love you,” she whispered.

Anytime he thought, _This is it. I couldn’t possibly love this girl no more than I already do_ , he was proven wrong. This was one of those times.

“I love you, too.”

She batted those big blue eyes at him. “You seemed to like that alright,” she said so shy and precious.

“More than alright. My girl’s pussy is the sweetest thing I ever tasted.”

She flushed and gave him a half-hearted shove. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“What about your language a little bit ago?”

She flushed even more. She knew he was teasing though and nestled up close.

“Where’d you learn…”

She closed her mouth. The Wall had been a cold and lonely place but there’d been a girl to chase the cold and loneliness away with for a bit. He’d tell her if she wanted but she probably didn’t really want to know, no more than he’d want to know anything about her sex life if it didn’t involve him.

“Take these off,” she said instead as she swatted his ass.

“Yes, ma’am,” he chucked as he quickly complied.

He may have come in his pants tonight but everything they did in his bed was about her pleasure. She’d dealt with a self-centered asshole long enough. She needed a man who would put her joy above his own. Jon was more than happy to be that man. _Her only man._

The bedroom door was open. _I may have done that on purpose._ He could hear the sound of retching from downstairs. If Sansa did, she pretended otherwise. Joffrey had liked Jyana’s mushrooms but he’d eaten too many earlier tonight when Sansa and him had gone upstairs. _Greedy little shit_. Now, he’d be vomiting for the next day or so. T _hat might be an issue with the busted leg. She’s not cleaning up his filth._

The poison would be doing its own slow work though.

_All in good time. Can’t have you dying too quick. You need to suffer some more first._

Joffrey’s mama had taken a trip to visit her twin brother for a few days. Howland had some kinfolk out that way. One owned a good camera. He was also renowned for being stealthy. He’d need to think of the boy though. Tommen was still a kid and Sansa loved him despite everything. She wouldn’t want the wrath coming for him.

She put on her pajamas. It was a pity to see that beautiful body covered again but she was more comfortable sleeping that way. At least, she didn’t mind his nakedness.

He pulled her up close, getting sleepy and relaxed with her in his arms. They’d both needed this release and escape tonight after what Howland had shared.

Sometimes, the truth was almost too much to stand. Sometimes, ignorance truly was bliss and you almost wished you’d never heard the truth or learned a new name.

But they had and, in the end, they’d deserved to know.

_And, he’d deserved so much better._

Jon had loved him as much as any brother from the time they’d still been in swaddling clothes lying in their pen side by side as Aunt Cat sang to them both. He _was_ Sansa’s brother. She’d been hurting so much when he’d told her. It ripped him up inside to know she was hurting more because of what someone they’d never met had done.

_And all for a little money…_

_“Did you know…back then?”_ he’d asked Howland, choking back the tears that threatened. He wasn’t going to cry in front of Howland. He’d shed his tears for Robb years ago.

_“No, Jon. I learned this later on. Roose don’t say nothing but that boy of his? The cockier her gets, the more he likes to run his mouth. Sometimes he runs his mouth ‘round the wrong folks.”_

He was starting to drift off with Sansa in his arms. He felt a tear or two sliding silently down the side of his face. He could still cry over Robb.

“Jon?”

He’d thought she was already asleep. “Uh huh?”

Her voice turned hard, sharp as a blade. “Janos Slynt.”

Neither of them had ever heard his name before tonight but Mr. Slynt had succeeded in making his way to the top of Jon’s list.

“You working tomorrow night, sweet one?”

Sweet as sugar again, she replied, “Yes but Shae asked me to switch so it’ll be second shift. I’ll be getting off at midnight.”

“Joffrey and I will hang out and watch some TV till you get home.”

 

* * *

 

 

Janos Slynt had been a beat cop for ages with the police force of Blackwater Bayou. He’d slowly made his way up to sergeant and seemed destined to die there since his measly pension would never be enough to keep him comfortable as he struggled to pay off his gaming debts.

But then, a man had come to him one night and whispered a few words and passed him more gold dragons than he’d ever seen.

The boy hadn't been but nineteen. He’d been working part-time at the mini-mart while taking some classes at the community college. He probably had bigger plans but tragedy had struck and he had a little sister to take care of. He also had a sweetheart living down in the bayou and he wasn’t eager to leave town.

He was a handsome boy. Probably one of those boys who could have any girl he wanted if he half tried.

That had never been him. Frog-faced Janos Slynt them bitches had called him back in school. He’d never been one of those boys even when he’d been nineteen.

He’d been warned not to give the boy any indication that he was a threat. So, he’d seen a cop entering the mini-mart and smiled as he came up to the counter with his bag of donuts and coffee. Janos had dropped his coins on the counter and the boy had stooped to pick them up when they’d rolled off.

 _“Please…my sister needs me,”_ he’d said after Janos had pulled the trigger, the blood staining the linoleum behind the counter a garish red under the florescent lights.

It was tragic but sometimes handsome boys were just standing in the way of what others wanted.  Janos had said nothing.  He'd simply fired once more.

 

* * *

 

 

“9-1-1, what’s you emergency?”

“Oh, thank the gods! You gotta send the police out here! I ain’t never seen nothing like it! I ain’t even ever heard of anything like it!”

Janos Slynt, retired cop, living in a fine house his pension never could’ve bought him, was spotted on his front porch by the neighbor lady when she’d went out to walk her dog that evening before bedtime.

To be accurate, his body was spotted.

His head had been removed with what must've been an ax and was sitting in his lap. His body was propped up on the front porch swing and there was a gold dragon stuffed in his mouth. His right index finger was missing.  _His trigger finger._   Everyone knew he’d never stopped his gambling. Horse racing, cards and dice, a rough crowd to run with. And former cops weren’t always liked so well in those circles.

Some of the cops at the station were already calling it the grisliest murder Blackwater Bayou had ever seen.

Maybe it’d be in for some competition soon. 

She got home a little after midnight. She peaked 'round back but Joffrey's tool shed was locked up like always.  Joffrey was snoring in front of the television but Jon was still awake, taking a shower. She could picture the blood pooling around the drain before it disappeared.

 _Like it was never even there,_ she decided.

She stripped and was waiting when he came out with just a towel wrapped around his waist.

Those wet curls sticking to his neck. His chiseled abs and chest. That dark, knowing look in his eyes. “Drop that towel and get on the bed,” she purred.

“Fuck…oh, fuck…” he cried a few minutes later, his hands gripping the edge of the bed.

“Watch that mouth now or you can’t come in mine,” she taunted before swirling her tongue around his cock and sucking him farther down.

“Shi- _mmmm_ …my girl’s mouth is so… _unnn_ …ah, fuck…”

Never had she given a man head because she wanted to till now. It’d always been expected or forced on her in the past. But this wasn’t forced. This was Jon. He’d never ask, she knew. He was careful not to push her into things she didn’t want. She wanted him but wasn’t quite ready for sex yet. However, she’d thought of him all night after that phone call and waited anxiously to come home. After all the pleasure he’d been bringing her on top of his other tasks, she wanted to do this for him.

She glanced up to see his sweet face staring down at her with such reverence, as if she’d hung the moon and stars just because she was sucking him off. He carded his hands carefully through her hair, not yanking it but gentle, just enough for her to know it was adding to his enjoyment.

His eyes were so intense, black as Lonely Lake. It was making her wet. He’d oblige her next, she knew.

She hummed and his eyes rolled back. He grunted before collapsing dramatically backwards on the bed. She wiped her mouth, swallowing down the salty taste of his cum and giggling at his antics.

She climbed up beside him as he panted and kissed his mouth. “My hero,” she sighed and laid her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat.

“What’d I do to deserve that? And how soon should I do it again?” he chuckled.

She snickered and caressed him. He knew what he’d done but they didn’t talk about it. There was no need and it might only stir up the pain of recalling who he’d avenged.

“Is it safe for us to go back to the woods yet, Jon? To our lands? I was trying to reach Lady like you said but it wasn’t working well.”

“I’ll think on it. For now, just keep trying that way. I know you can do it. I gotta keep you safe.”

She figured arguing would be pointless. They’d be going back to see the Reeds soon. Maybe then he might change his mind.

“Jon…” she said next, rubbing her hand down along his side.

“Gimme two minutes to catch my breath and then…”

“Then?” she asked, her toes already curling in anticipation.

“I’m gonna make you forget your own name, my girl.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You ain’t looking so good this morning.”

“I feel like shit.”

_I’ll bet._

Between the salve he’d been applying to Joffrey’s sores, the leg that wasn’t healing quite right, the pain pills he was likely hooked on by now and the mushrooms, things weren’t looking all that bright for Joffrey. The fool hadn’t realized how grim things were getting for him yet.

His mama was off entertaining her own needs for another day or two and his daddy was busy getting drunk, screwing whores and trying to ignore the sudden influx of strange deaths in Blackwater.

_It’s a mighty bad time to be a corrupt cop._

Barristan Selmy, the head detective, was investigating the latest one. Selmy was as clean as they came even if he worked for a complete shit. Jon didn’t know how much digging the old man would do for a former cop who was known to have had run-ins with the less savory sort of gamblers in the past.

 _We’ll wait and see. I’m just here minding my own business with Joffrey most nights_.

“I’ll get Doc Luwin to come ‘round and take a look at you.”

“Thanks, Jon,” Joffrey said. He meant it, too. Jon would almost feel sorry for him except he didn’t. Joffrey smirked next. “You know…I heard you last night. Didn’t know you were such a player.”

“A what?”

“You’d better not let Sansa catch you though.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“She sure wasn’t all that quiet. _‘Oh, gods! Right there, Jon! Yes, yes, yes!’_ What were you even doing to her?” Joffrey started laughing.

Did he think they were buddies? He’d be best to shut the fuck up but Jon knew he was high from his dose and the mushrooms were working on him.

 _I suppose you wouldn’t know much about pleasing a woman, you selfish son of a bitch_. “I figured you were sleeping.”

“I had the shits again and woke up. Whatever you were doing to her, I almost got hard listening to her moaning like that. I don’t care what you do but Sansa’s always been on the frigid side. She’d probably get all pissy with you if she knew you were bringing some girl home to fuck.”

“I didn’t bring no girl home to fuck. I was here all night. Maybe you were dreaming.”

“But I…”

“The only girl here last night was Sansa. She got off ‘round midnight,” he said with a sly little smile. _Oh, she got off alright. And I very much look forward to fucking her whenever she’s ready. Maybe I’ll tell you all about it before you die._

It was tempting to say that out loud but he held onto it. His girl had plans for this piece of shit.

He could see Joffrey trying to puzzle things out but those old brain cells hadn’t ever been the quickest and they were getting fuzzier every passing day.

“Let’s see what’s on,” Jon said affably before he turned on the latest episode of ‘Cop Killers.’

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roose has a talk with his son. Sansa and Jon order pizza but Joffrey doesn't care for pineapple. Lady's made some friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sort of an arc between Act 1 and 2, I guess you could say. I'm setting some things up for later on as well as establishing more of Sansa regaining the things the abusive relationship had taken from her. Regardless, I hope you'll enjoy it.
> 
> Mentioned illegal drug use and prescription pain medication abuse in this chapter.

* * *

 

“Look at me. Are you high right now?”

Ramsay smirked. “I ain’t high, Daddy. I’m just geared up a touch.”

Roose rubbed his forehead. Ramsay and Meth, Meth and Ramsay…quite the combination. _What a waste of my seed_.

“So you’re sure it was just a wolf then?” Roose hadn’t been sure. A couple of nights before the full moon there’d been something else in their woods, a human and something else.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Smelled like a she-wolf. Was I supposed to catch her? Not had a guest in a bit.”

Roose grimaced. There’d been a fool or three who’d wandered onto their lands at the wrong time over the past few years. Ramsay liked to play but they never lasted long. Roose did not approve but his son was a beast and trespassing carried its risks in Winter’s Hollow.

Ramsay was still smirking at him and lying through his teeth. He’d not done what he was told. Likely, he’d been busy looking for some girl to do crank with…and then hunt her.

“Jon Snow has returned to town. Did you know that?”

“So?”

“So? Ned and Benjen Stark’s nephew has returned and you say, ‘so?’ I despair for you at times, I really do,” he drawled.

“I know what he is but he’s been gone a long time. These ain’t his lands anymore.”

“No, they’re not _his_ lands.” Ramsay’s satisfied smile disappeared when Roose added, “They’re Sansa Baratheon’s. Or they would be if not for Tywin Lannister.”

“Well, then…”

“Did you know there was a mysterious death down in the bayou the other night? Deputy Boros Blount was killed by some wild creature, a wolf some say, killed right on Dr. Pycelle’s front porch. A whore who’d been with the doctor shortly before his death that same night claimed an enormous white wolf stalked into his bedroom causing the old man to have a heart attack. Does any of this concern you?”

“Alright. I see your point. Should I go kill him? And the whore, too?”

“No, you fool! We’re trying to live our life here in relative peace. Whatever Jon Snow may or may not have done to Pycelle and Blount doesn’t affect us as of now. But Janos Slynt met a rather gruesome end just last night…”

“He owed the wrong people money.”

“True. But what if someone talked.” Ramsay shifted guiltily. “And, if Snow was on our lands the other night, that could be different.”

“We could use a bit of help maybe?”

 _If you lead a horse to water, eventually even the stupidest might drink_. Sometimes, it was good to cajole Ramsay. “Possibly. For now, I’d like you to get your hunters together and see if you can learn anything about what Jon Snow might be doing here and if his cousin’s suddenly keen on moving back up this way.”

“I’ll call up my boys.”

“Good. But don’t go doing anything rash without my say. I’d go and visit Tywin but…” He gestured down at his body where he laid in bed. With every passing year, his recovery after the full moon took a bit longer.

“Yes, Daddy. Gotta let the Alpha rest.”

Roose didn’t miss the glint in his son’s eyes when he said that. _Someday, that boy will kill me sure as he did Domeric. And then what hell will he unleash on this land?_

 

* * *

 

 

Sansa smiled as the swamp faded and the room reappeared. Jon was sitting cross-legged on the bed in front of her.

“You reached her then?”

She’d been trying to reach Lady anytime she had a moment’s peace. She’d been worried about her wolf not being able to go visit their lands. Jon had finally allowed them to go back last night but she’d not turned up. In her heart, Sansa had felt like she was safe but she felt a lot better now.

“I did. She was fine. I can’t be positive but I think she’s come back down around the bayou. I wanna go to the Weirwood down there later tonight and see if she’ll come to me.”

“Alright. No real risk there like our lands. We can go once Joffrey’s had his dose. Maybe we’ll pay a call on Maggy. It’d please her to see you.”

“That’d be fine. What’d Doc Luwin say?”

“Not much to Joffrey but he told me the leg’s not healing right. He'll need surgery to correct it.”

“When’re we gonna do it?”

“Soon.”

“And the sores?”

“Luwin said they’re pretty bad. I stopped using Maggie’s salve. It’s done it’s work already but we’ll give the poison time to get out of his bloodstream.”

“Jon, are we gonna be in trouble? Can anyone say that we…”

“We’re gonna be fine. Howland’s got a place in mind. Perfect place for a grieving man to go get lost.”

She chewed at her bottom lip. She trusted Jon but she also knew how much he was looking forward to this. _Almost as much as I am._ She didn’t want them getting too sure of themselves. Jon wasn’t leaving her for some prison cell.

“Will he be the last?”

She wanted it done and over, too. She wanted them to live their lives. She wanted Jon to be her husband and wanted to have his children who they’d raise to know all the things they needed to learn.

She also wanted Jon to stop killing folks once this was done. Maybe she was aiming a bit high.

“Could be but definitely after his granddaddy and parents anyway.”

“I don’t care about their money. It’ll be Cella and Tommen’s.”

“I know you don’t care but some of it oughta come to you and we want our land. And, if Joffrey outlives his grandfather and parents then…” She frowned not sure how hard she wanted to think on all this right now. His hands slid through her hair, easing those worries at once, and caressed the back of her neck. “Don’t you fret none, sweet one. I’m gonna take care of all that.” He pressed his lips to hers and she melted into his arms.

“When’s supper?!” she heard Joffrey hollering from downstairs.

Jon growled softly, his eyes glittering dangerously. He was eager. He’d have to wait…wait for blood anyway.

“Keep your shirt on! It’s coming!” she hollered back at her husband. Then, she licked her lips and gave Jon a teasing look. “That doesn’t go for you.”

“What?”

She got off the bed and pulled her top over her head. Jon’s eyes boggled. “Take your shirt off. _Something’s_ coming before supper.”

He grinned, that sweet and sexy grin she couldn’t resist, and did as she said. “I thought you said you’d ordered pizza.”

“I did. It’ll take ‘em about 20 more minutes to get here.”

“What’ll we do with all that time?” he asked with that devilish look that made her a wanton thing.

“We could go and sit with Joffrey if you prefer.”

He scoffed and rose to his feet, putting his hands on her hips. “Nah…I gave him the remote. Let him enjoy watching whatever he wants for a little bit longer.” He took his jeans off. He was down to his boxer shorts.

“Leave those on and sit down,” she said, pushing him back on their bed. He was licking his lips now. Pizza was alright but this was much better. She grinned and unhooked her bra. Jon’s eyes were drinking her in as she did a slow striptease just for him. She left her panties on and could’ve giggled at his pout. “The door?” she asked once she was nearly bare for him. She swept her hair over her shoulders so it partially covered her breasts. She slid her panties off and covered her mound with one hand. He did enjoy a little teasing.

“Leave it open,” he husked.

She bit her lip to keep from smirking. _You want my husband to hear this, don’t you?_ She had to admit part of her didn’t care one bit if he did hear them.

She climbed over his body, feeling powerful, like her she-wolf. “You can’t put your hands on me till I say.”

He gulped and nodded. He gave her everything she needed and more. He’d let her say how it would be. She didn’t want a servant in her bed but it felt good to be in charge every now and then. It felt good to be the one in control for a change.

She kissed her way up his body, feather-light kisses along the trail of hair that went led from the top of his boxers to his belly button. He moaned as she kissed her way along his abs and let her teeth graze one nipple.

His hands were fisted in the sheets. “Sansa…I wanna fuck you so badly.”

“I know you do. You’re gonna get to before long.”

“Talk dirty to me.”

“You’re an animal,” she laughed.

“That I am. Please.”

Her cheeks grew hot but she could play this game with him. He loved it and she liked it far more than she ever would’ve expected.

She wrapped her hand around him through his boxer shorts. “You know what I want? I wanna feel this thick cock inside my wet pussy, Jon. I wanna feel you moving inside me. I want it so bad but we’re gonna wait just a bit more.”

The veins along his neck were straining as he leaned forward. He kept his hands in the sheets though like a good boy, biting down on his bottom lip to keep from reaching for her.

“When though? Before Joffrey’s dead?”

“Lie back.” She leaned down and kissed him. His lips were irresistible. He was dying to touch her but he’d wait till she said. Not yet but soon. “I’m gonna ride your face, Jon Snow. What do you think of that?”

“I think I hope the pizza delivery is really slow.”

“Me, too. Now, do you think you can make me come with just your mouth on me?”

“Oh, my girl…you know I can,” he rasped, that mischievous light in his eyes making her ache for him so.

“After that, you can put your hands on me when I suck your cock.”

His whimpered response made her laugh out loud.

 

* * *

 

 

He needed his dose. Those Oxys were good shit. He liked the blissed out feeling they gave him, the numbness, the weightlessness. It was like floating in a pool, carefree. His leg didn’t bother him nearly so much and the itching and burning of his skin wasn’t as noticeable when he had his dose. How was anyone supposed to get by without them?

Without his dose, everything was too sharp, jagged. He hated it. He wanted the floaty bliss again. Sometimes there were colors when he closed his eyes. Was he losing his mind?

_Only when I don’t have the good shit._

Jon shouldn’t keep them locked up. He wasn’t some fucking crackhead. But as long as Jon would dole them out every four to six hours, Joffrey could manage. Sometimes, Jon would be generous and give him extra.

The high pitched tone was coming back now though and his nerves felt all jittery like bugs suddenly exposed when their log was overturned. He needed it. Why’d they want to eat first? Food was nothing compared to the floaty feeling.

“Don’t you like your pizza?” his wife asked him as the three of them sat at the table.

Jon was sitting at the head of the table again, in his seat with Sansa at his left. It was just pizza but the head of the table, that was supposed to be his place. It annoyed him to see them sitting like that but not as much as the kitchen light buzzing over the sink did. The high pitched whine and the miserable sharp ache…gods, it was awful.

Jon poured her a glass of wine. Sansa was flushed pink like she’d been sunning herself today. She was grinning as she took a sip and another bite of pizza. Why was she so happy looking?

Joffrey wanted a beer but they said he shouldn’t have one. He was sick of flat tasting cola and water. Jon was drinking all his beer. It pissed him off but he told himself he had something better than beer now.

“I wanted pepperoni. This is covered in pineapple. You know I hate pineapple,” he said, glaring at her. She didn’t cower like she used to.

“Oh, I ordered this,” Jon said. “I’m sorry, Joffrey. Personally, I like it. It’s sweet, moist and a little tart. I could suck on some sweet puss-pineapple all day.”

His wife started giggling and took another sip of the wine.

He looked at them both closely. The sounds he’d been hearing at night…maybe he wasn’t imagining things after all. He’d heard them again before the pizza came. Moans and cries like something from a porno but quiet enough that he couldn’t be sure he was really hearing anything at all. The faint sound of feminine laughter and a bed squeaking…had that been real? Or was it just that damned high pitched whine again that made him want to claw his skin off and jab a steak knife in his ear?

The delivery kid had rang the doorbell half a dozen times before Jon had come flying down the steps to answer it, buttoning up his fly and without a shirt on.

Were they fucking up there? Was his wife stupid enough to fuck her bastard cousin under his roof and right under his nose?

_No way. I’d kill that bitch. No…first, I’d tie them both up and make him watch me throat fuck her. Then, I’d call Trant over and we’d take our time with them._

He smiled to himself. Sansa wouldn’t dare. She knew better. He had her right where she belonged…didn’t he?

Joffrey frowned. He wasn’t so sure of that. Sansa was different with Jon around. She was more confident or something. He needed some time alone with his wife to remind her of the order of things around here. But, Jon was always here and Joffrey could barely make it to the bathroom by himself.

Speaking of which…

He took a final sullen bite and then laid his slice down when his stomach started roiling again. He clenched and stood. “I gotta take a shit,” he gasped.

Jon rolled his eyes and wiped his mouth. “Come on then.”

“I need my dose,” he said weakly as Jon helped him down the hall.

“Yeah, I’ll get it. We’re about out though.”

“Out?!”

Joffrey’s scattered suspicions regarding his wife and her cousin disappeared like a wisp of smoke in a breeze. They were nearly out of the good shit. What in seven hells was he gonna do without it? He needed it. He wasn’t some junky wanting a fix. He _needed_ it to get by!

“I know you’re in a lot of pain still. Them doctors are so tetchy about pain meds these days. I’m sure you know all about that with your work, right?”

“Uh…right.”

“I wouldn’t want to do anything illegal, especially with you being a cop,” Jon laughed nervously. “But…oh, never mind.”

“No, no. It’s not a…go on.”

“I’ll talk to Luwin. He’s an old family friend. I’ll see if I can’t convince him some.”

“Yeah, okay. Convince him for me, Jon.” _Break the old fart’s legs if you have to but convince him_.

They’d made it to the bathroom and he couldn’t hold it any longer. Still, he couldn’t let it go. He needed it.

“What if he says no? I could ask Trant to go pay him a visit…”

“Oh, don’t worry none. One way or another, I’m gonna see you get everything you deserve.”

Jon left the bathroom just before Joffrey started shitting his guts out again. Things were sort of foggy. He couldn’t really decipher why Jon’s final words sounded so odd to him.

 

* * *

 

 

“Jon, look.”

He didn’t need to really. He’d heard them coming. He’d smelled them. He’d already stripped and he went ahead and shifted as soon as the first one came into view.

Lady had come but four other wolves had come with her; two males and two females, one of them in heat.

He needed to protect Sansa. She wasn’t helpless. She was the wolf and powerful. But her human form was just sitting there, vulnerable. He guarded his cousin’s body as the wolves sang their song to the night, silencing all the other critters in the bayou for a bit. He didn’t join them this time but maybe someday he would.

When they left again, he shifted back and waited to see what she’d learned tonight.

“They follow her. They did whatever she did…or I did. Isn’t that unusual? I don’t think they were her pack.”

 _No, they weren’t. We’re her pack_. An unpaired female. She deserved a mate. “A bit. I think maybe they’d follow you wherever.”

“Me?”

“You can only warg into one wolf at a time but animals have their own ways of communicating. Their senses are more developed than ours.” _We could be their Alpha pair._ “You’re more powerful than you think, Sansa.” Her mouth fell open. “We’ll see if Granny’s journal says anything else about it. Let’s go pay a call on Maggy.” He pulled her to her feet and they started walking. “You’re working tomorrow night, right?”

“Uh huh. Think I’ll get any unusual calls?” she asked, those blue eyes all big and innocent and not fooling him one bit.

“No, not yet. The wolf needs to do a bit of stalking first.”

Tywin Lannister was a rich man…and a cautious one. He lived alone but he also had servants about the place, night and day. He’d need to observe his routine before he acted. Sansa needed him to be smart. He was doing his damnedest but it wasn’t always going to be easy anticipating the moves of his prey.

“Why’d you ask if I’d be working then?”

“‘Cause I don’t wanna miss a single minute of your company when you’re free, my girl.”

She grinned at that and he kissed her hand.

_And ‘cause I ain’t leaving you alone with Joffrey anymore after the way he was watching us at supper._

Maybe Jon had some good senses, too. Her husband might be starting to cotton on a bit when he wasn’t too foggy with his dose which meant his time and everyone else’s on Jon’s list was just about up.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And for any of you who are fretting, Joffrey might be starting to buy a clue but there's no way he's ever going to get to hurt her again.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa visit Maggy and get a warning. Jon worries over his murderous instincts. And Joffrey makes a phone call which leads to Sansa needing some new bedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm sorry for the delay with this update. I was feeling very rusty with this story. The first 11 chapters were finished over 2 months ago but I'm doing my best to get back into the swing of this story here. Hope it's still enjoyable! *turns and flees*

 

Sansa’s mouth fell open when Jon pointed out Maggy’s dwelling down by the bayou. A hodgepodge of tents and blankets were roughly sewn together around an enormous cypress tree; a dozen shades of green, grey and brown with a blue tarp marking the entrance.

“She lives here?”

“Uh huh. Well, she does till the cops come along to drive her out again. Then, it’s the streets…or jail.”

Sansa chewed at her bottom lip, guilt plaguing her. How many times had she pretended not to see Maggy and the others like her in town? She’d been known to pick up her pace and clutch her purse a bit tighter as she passed by them even as part of her had wished there was some way she could help.

“Hey,” Jon said, reading her thoughts. “Stop beating yourself up. The way Maggy lives is not your fault.”

“Maybe it’s not but I could’ve done something.”

“With all that money Joffrey was handing you to give away? Think he’d have let you go volunteer at a shelter or something considering he wouldn’t even let you drive yourself to work?”

She scowled at him but he had a point. “Would you stop me from helping folks like Maggy if I wanted?”

“You know better than that.”

“I do. You know if it weren’t for her…her gift to me that night changed everything, Jon. If it weren’t for that book, we’d never have…you’d be dead and I’d probably be dead too someday by his hand. I might not have been able to do anything before but maybe things are changing.”

“I’ll certainly agree with you there.”

“I want to help people like her and other women like me when all this is done. I want to do something for Maggy but I don’t know what exactly.”

“Well, why don’t you ask what she’d like? I get the feeling Maggy’s not the sort who likes for folks to tell her what she needs or don’t need or what she’s supposed to want. Come on.”

There was a small fire burning and over it Sansa saw all kinds of plants and herbs tied up with string and hung up to dry. A cackle greeted her ears and she turned to find the squat old woman emerging from her make-shift home. She was limping in her mismatched shoes and Sansa thought of one thing she’d like to give her if Maggy would accept them.

“You come back to see Old Maggy again, Handsome? What will the folks in town think of us? They’ll be saying I’ve cast a spell on you, boy, just like I tried with that Benjen,” she laughed. “But oh, look who you brought to see me tonight,” she grinned next. “Wolf girl.”

 _Wolf girl_. It was what she’d called her that night. Back when she’d been powerless, Maggy had seen the potential that had been there all along. Sansa felt her lips curling into a smile. She liked not feeling powerless anymore. Who wouldn’t? And she liked the way it felt when she warged into Lady.

“It’s a mighty good feeling I’ll bet but be careful you don’t lose yourself in there, girl.”

Sansa’s smile died. “What do you mean by that?”

“A wolf is an animal but you’re not.” Maggy shuffled over and tapped her chest none too gently. “It was your kindness that prompted me to give you something that night. I’m a selfish old woman who don’t have much use for folks unless they’ve got something worth trading. But you spoke up even when I know you were scared to. You even offered me your bit of money when I could see how he controlled you.”

“How could you know that?”

“A woman who’s seen it and lived, that’s how. Now, a wolf can be fierce, savage even. Sometimes it can’t be helped but don’t ever lose that sweet nature of yours, Wolf Girl.”

“She won’t. She couldn’t,” Jon argued.

Maggy turned her sharp gaze on him and Jon seemed to shrink back some from it. She’d never seen Jon look cowed like that since he was just a boy. “You best hope she don’t. Her light is all that’s keeping you from drowning in that darkness, boy. Don’t forget it.”

 

* * *

 

 

_He yelped when his uncle found hiding in Mr. Umber’s smokehouse. They’d been looking for him for hours now, he figured, probably worried sick and he’d be in that much more trouble because of it. He knew he deserved to be punished for what he’d done and for running away but what child doesn’t try and avoid a whipping if he can?_

_His uncle didn’t lay a hand on him though. He just beckoned him out of his hiding spot and made him sit down beside him._

_“I’m sorry, Uncle Ned,” he sobbed. “I didn’t mean to hurt him that bad. Is he alright?”_

_It was the start of summer and they’d finished their chores early. Aunt Cat had said they could play till suppertime. They’d had the whole golden day ahead of them._

_Sansa had wanted to play with them but they’d managed to give her the slip. She was six but so bossy. She would’ve insisted they both be knights (who were best friends) sent to rescue the fair princess (which would be her) from a dragon or something dumb like that again._

_They had wound up pretending to be knights in the end but they weren’t wasting time rescuing princesses who’d probably tell them all the ways they weren’t doing it right. They were rival knights who fought each other to be proclaimed the mightiest in the land with their swords (or sticks in this case.) Usually, they’d wind up wrestling before it was all said and done, too. It was the sort of play they liked best when they weren’t off hunting or fishing._

_“He’ll be alright. He can handle a bloody nose.”_

_“I didn’t break it, did I?”_

_“No. Damn close but it’ll heal up quick.” Why was Uncle Ned chuckling? Why wasn’t he whipping him for what he did? “Jon, I know how much you love Robb. Children fight sometimes is all. It happens.”_

_“We weren’t supposed to be fighting for real. We was just playing and messing around but then I…I got so angry. I couldn’t help it. It was like it took over.”_

_Of all the silly names they’d dubbed themselves as they’d stood there posturing and swishing their sticks around, why did Ser Jon Stark have to be the one Robb had taken exception to?_

_“You can’t be that. You ain’t a Stark, Jon.”_

_Robb hadn’t meant it to be hurtful Jon told himself but it had still stung. More than stung really. A frightening flash of rage had taken over and he’d hauled off and whacked Robb with his stick right across the nose and then whacked him again and again after Robb was already down on the ground. As soon as he realized his cousin’s nose was bleeding and he was crying, Jon had started crying too and run off._

_“I know you were scared. And I know getting mad like that probably scared you, too,” his uncle said._

_“I was. It did. Is there…”_ something wrong with me, _he wanted to ask but couldn’t say it. “The things they say at school about my daddy’s family and…”_

_“Don’t listen to none of that!” Uncle Ned barked. Jon jumped, afraid now that he was in worse trouble. But his uncle’s expression softened and he put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on home now, son. Your aunt’s been fretting something awful and you boys should make up after a fight.”_

_Jon had followed his uncle back home but all the while he couldn’t help worrying over why he’d snapped that way over the name. It wasn’t till him and Robb were playing together again after supper (with Sansa this time ‘cause Aunt Cat had insisted) that’d he forgotten all his worries._

 

* * *

 

 

“What’d she mean by the darkness?” Sansa asked, nuzzling close as they’d settled to sleep at last.

“Nothing.”

“Jon.”

“It’s just…I’m real tired.”

She huffed and rolled away and he hated knowing he’d displeased her but it wasn’t something he felt ready to confront.

 _‘This is not our way, Jon,’_ he could hear them saying sadly.

What Howland had said about folks in Winter’s Hollow missing his uncles, it wasn’t because they threw the best parties or were the most fascinating company. It wasn’t just about them chasing off werewolves when the moon was full either. It was about them watching over people and helping them like Sansa wanted to do.

 _Protect the pack_. The pack didn’t have to just mean their blood.

 _Defend our lands._ Not just the sacred lands that belonged to the Starks. All of Winter’s Hollow had been his home.

He closed his eyes tight and focused on the scent of her lying next to him, wanting to avoid the uncomfortable accusations he’d seen in Maggy’s crusty eyes.

_‘There’s more than just the wolf in you, boy. That other beast that lurks deep down, death made him wake up some maybe but you can still control him…for now. But what happens to the man if the beast takes over for good?’_

He’d been brought back for a purpose, one he was gladly fulfilling, but what if that was it? Sansa wanted to help people but all he could think of was killing the ones who’d wronged her, getting back what was theirs and holding onto her. What if once he finished avenging Sansa, what if once he killed Joffrey, the gods decided he was done and took it all back? Could he hold onto her with the darkness inside him? What if they had kids someday? Could he ever be a father like his uncles had been to him, like Uncle Ned had been to Robb and Sansa? Was he cursed to turn out like his daddy’s kin? And if he was cursed, would his children be as well?

It frightened him…and made him angry.

Once she was asleep, Jon rose from the bed and padded downstairs to where Joffrey was sleeping fitfully on his foldout. A faint whiff of corruption seemed to ooze from him and a hint of moonlight was in the room, turning Joffrey’s golden hair silver. He looked younger in his repose but no less sickly.

Jon stood over him a long while, watching him breathe and thinking off all the ways he’d like to put a stop to that. He thought of his sweet one and all this man had done to her. His hands were balled into fists and that temptation to act was strong in him.

“I could kill you in a heartbeat. You’d barely feel it,” he whispered as the rage festered, that fearsome beast that dwelled within him. He leaned in closer to Joffrey’s ear, not caring if he woke up and heard him. “I prefer making it last for days, knowing every breath you draw will be an agony at the end but the waiting is hard. You can beg and beg. It won’t save you.” He smiled. He liked option 2. This man deserved it.

But what would they think of this? Even with the abuse Sansa had suffered, would his uncles condone what Jon was doing? The killing, yes, but the rest of it? What would Uncle Ned have done to this man who abused his daughter if he’d got his hands on him? Somehow, Jon couldn’t see him poisoning him and enjoying the pettier brand of torments that he was dishing out till it was time to kill him.

And yet, Jon couldn’t say he was entirely sorry for doing things a bit differently than his uncle might’ve.

Sansa had said he couldn’t just up and kill him anyway but, more and more, he’d been reflecting on some of the things he’d heard about his daddy’s kin as a boy; stories of brothers and sisters marrying each other and then their children doing the same, draining down that gene pool with every generation. Stories of brothers killing each other in cruel and twisted ways over the stupidest, pettiest things and being cursed as kin slayers from then on while never understanding how their once well-to-do family could have fallen so far. Stories of how many of them had wound up dead over their weird obsession with fire or in prison for committing arson.

_Madness running rampant throughout the family…maybe that’s where this comes from._

“My uncle would’ve torn you limb from limb but he’d have done it quick and had it over with. He wouldn’t have fucked around with you like I’m doing. He was a good man. I guess I ain’t. I ain’t ever gonna be him.”

“Jon?”

He spun and saw Sansa in the doorway behind him. She was wearing his t-shirt and her hands were clasped together. Her hair was hanging down loose, looking wine dark in the moonlit room. His heart ached from that crushing fear of never being good enough for her, or maybe hurting her unintentionally with his madness.

“I wasn’t doin’ nothing,” he said as Joffrey began to whimper in his sleep.

She cast a cold blue eye towards Joffrey and then held out her hand. “I know. Come on back to bed now.”

He followed her back up the stairs and she clicked on the bedroom light. She had their granny’s journal lying on the bed. She sat on the bed cross-legged and bid him to join her.

“You are a good man.” He shook his head. “You _are_ ,” she said more forcefully. She took his hand in hers and said it again. “You really are. Will you tell me why you been fretting since we left Maggy’s? Don’t lie to me,” she said when he tried to deny it. He couldn’t lie to her. Or if he did, he was miserable at it. “Tell me about it, tell me about the darkness you fear drowning in.”

He gulped and rested his chin on his knee. The light was behind her. It silhouetted her, her arms and thighs resembled drifted snow and her hair looked like flames but her eyes were round dark pits without the light in them.

_The dark and the light. It’s in us both. Her light shines more brightly and my darkness runs deeper but together..._

If she was his soul mate, he shouldn’t keep things from her. Maybe Uncle Ned had stopped him from expressing all his worries as a boy but she wouldn’t. He opened his mouth and unburdened himself, sharing his fears with her.

Once he’d finished, she considered for a time before opening the cracked old journal and turning to some of the old legends carefully copied down by generations of Stark women. “Let’s look at some of the old stories about the First Men, Jon.”

“Uh…alright.”

An hour later, he appreciated all she’d read to him and what she was trying to prove. The First Men, the Starks from centuries ago, some of them had been every bit as fearsome as the beasts they could transform into. Some had been wretched but more of them had been good. Some of them were wiser than others. Some of them were crueler. But in the end, they were Starks and, on the whole, he could take pride in calling them his kin.

“They’re not just your kin. They’re a part of you. Don’t you see? They’re in us both. It’s our family. You’re a shapeshifter because you’re a Stark, no matter your last name. You don’t have to be a replica of Daddy or Uncle Benjen. You take after them and there’s a lot of their goodness in you but you’re you and it’s you I love.”

“But what if I was already half crazy and now I’ve come back worse than…”

“It don’t matter to me!” His eyes widened, surprised at her passionate reply. “You came back from the dead and your first thoughts were to come to me, to protect me, weren’t they?”

“They were.”

“What’s so bad about that?”

“Nothing, I guess.”

“And, if I’m what keeps you from slipping into the darkness for good, I’ll happily keep you from it. And if you occasionally lead me into black water, I’ll find the way back for us both.” She rested her forehead against his and he felt that ache and worry leaving him. His girl could make anything right, he thought. “We were meant to be together, Jon. I believe it deep down in my bones. Right or wrong, we’re going to finish this and then we’re going to live our lives, alright?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry for my doubts and for trying to keep it from you.”

“It’s alright. I’ll likely have my own from time to time but we just need to remember that we’re a pack just like those wolves we saw tonight, right?”

He nodded in agreement.

Once that was done, they laid down to rest. Tomorrow, once she left for work, he’d go scout Tywin’s Lannister’s home and see what he could learn. He also needed to pay a call on Howland and see what his kinfolk had turned up. He could worry about what he’d do once all this was done but for now, he had work to do.

 

* * *

 

 

Joffrey took a sip of his flat soda and squinted at the TV. Someone was screaming in the movie and someone else was shooting a gun. What was even happening? What was he watching? Where was his gun anyway?

Oh, that’s right. He didn’t really care. The blissful numbness was coming back but it was slow. There was something not quite _enough_ about it. How many pills did he swallow? He looked down in the bedsheets and saw two still sitting in his lap. _Well, shit._

He picked them up and noticed all the scabs on his arm. How’d those get there? _Oh, yeah…the itching._ It made him itch just remembering the itching. That was a little better now. Jon had found some other cream to put on them and it worked better.

He downed the two pills with the last of his awful-tasting cola. It’d take a bit but soon he’d been feeling the full effect of his dose and then things would be better.

A shadow fell across him and he looked up to see Jon standing over him. Why was he standing there? What had he said?

“Did you hear me? I’m going out to the store. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Whad'm I 'posed to do while you’re gone?” he slurred. Why was everything so hazy anymore?

Jon shrugged. “I don’t know. Watch TV or something.” He handed him the remote. He hardly ever let him have it. He could watch something else but who really cared about TV anyway?

Jon was nearly out the door when something occurred to him, something that had been worrying him earlier before Jon gave him his dose. “Hey…did you talk to the doc about my pills today?”

“Nah, we’re not out yet. I’ll go see him tomorrow.”

“But you said we were almost out.”

“Yeah but we’ve got a couple of days-worth still. I’ll take care of it. Be back soon.”

The door closed and Joffrey grumbled to himself. Jon better not forget. Actually, he didn’t need Jon for this, did he? He couldn’t find his cell phone. He’d not seen it in a while. The house phone in here was disconnected but the one in the kitchen worked. Sansa had been on it just this morning. It was a long way to go and his leg throbbed something awful when he moved but he could manage this. He’d crawl on his belly from the living room to the kitchen for the good shit if he had to. He’d call Trant. He hadn’t seen that asshole in a while anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

Tywin Lannister lived in a very old, plantation-style manor on the opposite side of the bayou from Old Maggy. Tall oaks which had stood for nearly two centuries lined both sides of the gravel drive. Over time, the branches of the trees had reached across the lane towards one another until they’d formed a canopy of sorts. The large white house waited at the end, as stiff and intimidating looking as its owner, far more impressive than the new construction his grandson lived in and a very far cry from the homey cabins and shacks that most folks in Winter’s Hollow called home.

The sky was clear tonight and the waning moonlight reflected off his white coat so Jon stuck to the brushes as much as possible. Once he reached the house, he shifted. It was chilly out with winter creeping closer but he’d grown used to that even when he was naked.

An old woman was scrubbing pans in the kitchen when he peeped in one window and pair of young men wearing guns were smoking ‘round back. He’d hired some protection. It wouldn’t do him any good. Jon was too quick and quiet to be too worried over them.

He found the window he was looking for and watched the man himself sitting at his desk sorting through paperwork.

A man his age, he’d be easy to kill…maybe as easy as Pycelle had been. He wouldn’t do that again. Tywin Lannister’s death would bring lots of attention and Jon needed to figure out something different to do.

But as he thought about how he’d swindled Sansa out of their lands with the help of some others all so Roose Bolton could take them, he felt that familiar rage bubbling up inside again.

 _Focus. Protect the pack. Defend our lands. Pray to the gods. Keep our secret._ He added a new bit. _Marry Sansa and have little ones with her someday_.

Breathing in and out and repeating his little mantra, he listened to an owl hooting till he felt calmer. He’d wait and study this man. He could control it. The beast wasn’t in control. He was.

Mr. Lannister stood and walked over to a wall safe. His back was to him, hiding whatever was inside. Jon wondered what things he kept in there. Maybe he’d find out in time but he’d need to wait for the right time. He’d need patience.

_I’m patient. Well, I can be anyway._

He crept back along the bayou after he’d finished watching Mr. Lannister. There were quite a few lizard lions moving about but they wouldn’t bother the wolf.

He stopped by the store and picked up a few things. Lemon herb tea for his sweet one and diet cola and cheese puffs for Joffrey. _Except they’ll be Cheez-its since Joffrey hates them_. He grabbed a pack of licorice-flavored gum too since Joff was out of his cinnamon. It was dusty it’d been sitting so long on the shelf. _Perfect_.

When he returned to the house, he saw a sheriff’s cruiser parked outside and told himself not to panic. Joffrey looked pretty rough but Jon thought if he was in trouble, there’d be more than one of them there.

Meryn Trant opened the front door, an unexpected surprise. Jon immediately felt his pulse picking up pace. He also felt the howling madness stirring in his blood.

 _“They were both drunk and Joffrey told me to come get them. When we got home, Joffrey told me to make them something to eat. I just wanted to go to bed. I told him I was tired and he slapped me. Trant stood there and snorted like it was the funniest thing he’d seen,”_ she’d told him, her eyes dry but the pain clear as day on her pretty face. _“And when I tried to run, he grabbed me and held me for Joffrey to do it again. The next night at work, he cornered me and…he said he’d like to have held me and watched Joffrey do something else to me.”_

This man was slated to die.

_It’s like the gods sent a gift with him just being here waiting, ain’t it?_

_No, it ain’t. You can’t do it here at the house. Get him to go. Track him down another night._

“You Sansa’s cousin?”

“Uh…yeah.”

He clutched the grocery bag tighter. _Patience. Not here in the house._ But Trant was on his list and he was right fucking here. What was he doing here tonight anyway?

“What’s with Joffrey? He’s in there babbling along with some cartoon. He don’t hardly make no sense,” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards the living room.

“He gets kind of dopey on his pills.”

“Ahhh…well, that explains it. You’re the Snow boy, right?”

“Right.”

“I remember your mama from school. She sure was a looker.”

He winked and Jon bit down hard on his lip. _Not in the house_. He headed towards the kitchen, needing some space. But Trant was on his heels, gabbing away about Joffrey calling and asking a favor.

“He called you?”

“Yeah.”

 _Time to disconnect that phone, too,_ he thought, glancing towards the one on the wall by the pantry.

Trant reached into the fridge and helped himself to a beer. “I stopped by the doc’s place like he asked.”

Jon sat the bag down and turned around. “Wait…you what?”

“He told me to go see Dr. Luwin and get him some more pills.”

“But, I was gonna go and…”

“The old man got snippy with me but I taught him some manners.” Trant cracked open the bottle and took a seat.

Jon reached into the butcher’s block and pulled out the eight inch chef’s knife. “Did you now?”

 

* * *

 

 

The night had been slow and Sansa was grateful for the break. After her late night spent talking with Jon last night, she was sleepier than usual. It had been worth it though to offer him some comfort and reassurance. He wasn’t some monster. Well, maybe a bit but he was _her_ monster and she wouldn’t try and change him. He just needed to check his wilder impulses some, right?

Shae and her had been taking breaks together whenever they could lately. The two women didn’t have a ton in common but they got along well enough. It was nice. She wondered if Jeyne would like her. It’d be nice to think maybe she could have friends come over some day.

They were outside so Shae could smoke while Sansa drank her water and ate an apple. The two of them had been chatting about lots of things and Sansa found herself opening up some when the talk turned to men. Tonight, she’d opened up a bit more.

“Son of a bitch. I thought as much but I’m sorry to hear it, Sansa. You gonna divorce him, ain’t you?”

 _Divorce? No, that door has already closed. We’re well past that, I’m afraid._ “I might. I don’t know yet. He ain’t bothered me none since Jon came to stay.”

“Speaking of that cousin of yours…”

“What?” she asked, panicked that Shae might suspect something.

“Oh, come on, Sansa. I seen the way he was looking at you when he brought you lunch a couple of nights ago. I thought my panties might spontaneously combust from the sexual tension rippling through the breakroom.”

“Shae!” she blushed. _She can suspect all she wants but I won’t admit anything yet._ “Jon’s like an older brother to me.” _Liar_.

“Bullshit.”

“Alright, not really like a brother but he’s the only kin I have left.”

“Uh huh,” Shae smirked.

“He’s protective of me. We’re just close is all.” Why’d she have to start giggling? Gods, she was miserable at pretending when it came to him. _May as well scream out that you love him and want to have his babies._

“Uh huh.”

The smirk was getting bigger and Sansa’s cheeks were getting hot.

She was saved from saying anything further when her cell started buzzing. She smiled when she saw it was Jon calling.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” she asked, jokingly.

“Shit. How’d you know?”

“What?”

“Uh…between those plaid flannel sheets and the light blue ones, which would you say is your least favorite set?”

“Wha-…sheets?”

“Well, the flannel might come in handy soon since winter is coming. I’ll use the blue. We can buy another set.”

“Jon…”

“I’ll get you a new knife set, too.”

“Jon?!”

“I, um…I kind of fucked up, Sansa.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I based the description of Tywin's home off Oak Alley Plantation.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has a body to get rid of and runs into local law enforcement, Tywin Lannister might be late for supper and Sansa has a surprise for Jon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some macabre bits in this chapter and Jon withholds pain meds from Joffrey in retaliation for his actions.

 

Fog had rolled in casting an ethereal glow over the bayou. The usual swamp sounds were quieted except the ones Sansa didn’t particularly want to hear. She focused on the trees which were lit by the fading starlight and rising out of the black water like dark but ghostly creatures. Their branches might be arms, waiting to pluck the unsuspecting from the safety of solid ground.

She shivered and decided she didn’t like that story.

_Maybe they’re harbingers of wisdom, waiting to share their knowledge gained from centuries of watching over this swamp with any who will listen. Maybe when the Children of the Forest died, they became the forest and these are their corporeal remains._

She liked that better.

Exuberant splashing followed by hisses and growls drew her back from her imaginings. She glanced at Jon, his white teeth bright as he smiled and watched the fracas.

“Lizard lions. I suppose they’re fascinating creatures in a way, ain’t they? Woo! Look at the teeth on that one. Take it easy, boys. That nasty fucker can’t be all that tasty.”

“Jon…” she sighed heavily. Her stomach was already roiling from the sounds of the creatures snapping and chomping over the remains of Meryn Trant. She sure didn’t want to look or listen to a commentary.

“Sorry. I won’t make no more jokes.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “You still mad?”

“Mad? Why would I be mad? I like nothing better than lying to my supervisor so I can come home early to find you dismembering a corpse in my kitchen.”

His eyebrows lifted and he wore a wry expression. “Dammit, I knew I should’ve used the flannel sheets instead of the blue.”

“This isn’t funny, Jon. You killed him in the house. Joffrey was in the next room and still awake. His police car was parked in front of my house! Speaking of which, you think those lizard lions are gonna make that disappear for us, too?”

“I’m gonna ditch it next.”

“Where? They’ve got GPS trackers on their cars. They’re going to hunt it down unless you know how to disable it when Trant doesn’t show back up.”

“Oh, they won’t have to hunt very far where I’m taking it. I’ll take care of my clothes and the other evidence, too.”

She hugged herself. He hadn’t wanted her to come with him here but she’d been half-afraid to let him out of her sight after everything tonight. Blood splattered on her lemon yellow kitchen cabinets and all over the tile floor, an arm in her sink and an ax on her kitchen table.

_“You’re gonna need to add trash bags to your shopping list.”_

Joffrey with drool dribbling down his chin in the next room when she’d gone to check on him, his eyes glassy and detached as he’d stared at the television and asked her who her favorite Muppet was.

 _“How much you give him?”_ she’d hissed at Jon when she’d returned to the kitchen.

 _“He had Trant strong arm Luwin and bring him more pills. I’d guess he helped himself to as much as he wanted,”_ he’d replied before holding up Joffrey’s bow saw. _“You might want to turn away.”_

She closed her eyes and told those memories to go away. Otherwise, she might vomit.

“It’s getting closer to dawn,” she said looking towards the east. She couldn’t remember a longer or more anxious night.

_That’s not true. You had plenty of nights worse than this with Joffrey._

She thought about those nights versus this one. Jon had been impulsive but he was only doing what she’d known he was going to do for a while now. Trant had been horrible to her. He’d not only witnessed Joffrey’s abuse but actively supported it and even assisted. He’d made vile remarks and veiled threats of his own towards her. He was a terrible person and an insult to decent law enforcement officers everywhere. He’d got what was coming to him.

She covered a yawn and hugged herself tighter.

“You cold, sweet one?” he asked, putting an arm around her.

“A little bit.”

She melted into his warmth and his touch and closed her eyes tighter. Despite her frustrations with his actions earlier, his comfort was what she craved and it eased some of the worry from her mind. _Joffrey’s got his Oxys and I’ve got Jon. I like this medicine just fine._

Yes, he’d been rash and their fingers might grow raw from the cleaning products they’d need to use in order to get her kitchen spotless again but this night had been coming for a long time whether Jon had planned it or not. And no matter the terrible things he might do, she no longer held any doubts that he loved her and wanted to protect her at all costs.

“Alright. Let’s scoot and get you home to lie down. Our reptilian friends have already done their bit and the car shouldn’t take me long.”

She liked that. She was feeling so tired and longing for bed. Maybe Jon could lie with her when he came back. “What are you gonna do with it?”

“Drive it back to the station and park it right next to Sheriff Baratheon’s maybe.”

Her eyes popped back open. “WHAT?!”

 

* * *

 

 

Jon surveyed himself once more as dawn was breaking. He didn’t look like he’d spent his night disposing of a dead body, a police car and other evidence. He started whistling a tune as he strolled up to the counter of the little diner and waited on Mya Stone to be free.

“Morning, Jon. Ain’t seen you in ages. When’d you come back?”

“Few weeks ago. I been staying with Sansa. Say, Mya…is them beignets fresh?”

He ordered a dozen and a cup of coffee to go. He was anxious to get back home to her but wanted to surprise her with breakfast.

_Especially seeing as how she might not relish cooking in there this morning._

Joffrey had been completely passed out when they’d returned but he didn’t like taking chances with his sweet one. It wouldn’t have been necessary if he’d just held on and not acted last night but what was done was done and he couldn’t undo it now.

 _“I don’t like guns,”_ she’d protested when he’d made his suggestion.

_“I think there’s a better chance of a dragon hatching from one of those chicken eggs in the fridge than there is of him climbing up the stairs and bothering you before I get back but I’d feel better knowing you were armed.”_

_“And what if he does come up the stairs while you’re gone?”_

_“Take aim and squeeze the trigger as much as needed till he don’t get up no more. I’ll take care of the rest.”_

_“Gods, Jon.”_

_“It ain’t gonna come to that but let me walk you through firing this one.”_

_“You always were a good shot, I remember.”_

_“I do alright.”_

_“Did you use guns in the Watch?”_

_“Uh huh. I was the marksmanship instructor for a time. Learned some other handy skills there, too. Here you go now. The bullets come out this end,”_ he’d teased.

_“I know that!”_

_“I’ll be back in an hour or so.”_ He’d kissed her brow and darted off to clean up the rest of his mess.

He’d been teasing about returning the cruiser to the station. Apparently, Sansa had not appreciated his humor though and he’d had to apologize the whole drive back to the house.

_You kill a man in her kitchen and you’re busy cracking jokes. You should watch that. Actually, maybe don’t kill anyone else in her kitchen if you can help it._

He moved Trant’s cruiser from the parking lot he’d left it in earlier to outside Chataya’s establishment. Trant was known to frequent the place fairly regularly and always hungry for a new girl to break in from what Jon had learned. And it wouldn’t be the first time he’d stopped there while working the night shift either.

As for the fact that he’d never made it inside last night…

_There’s many a slip betwixt a cup and a lip._

After meticulously wiping the car down, he dumped his clothes and Trant’s along with the bloody rags that had cleaned up a bulk of the mess. He kept a sharp eye out for anyone out and about in the predawn light and his eyes were damn sharp. He didn’t see nobody and was grateful that Blackwater Bayou was a sleepy little place most Sunday mornings.

Between the cruiser’s location and Trant’s body residing in the belly of a half a dozen lizard lions several miles away in the bayou, Jon had to snicker to himself just imagining Detective Selmy’s puzzlement over the fate of his fellow officer.

“Jon Snow?”

Jon turned and did a double take, choking on his coffee when he realized that the man himself was standing right behind him and had spoken.

“Oh! Uh…hey there, Detective Selmy. Long time, no see.”

“I heard you’d come back to town. How you been? Has it been eight years already?”

The old man had always been courteous but he was curious, too. People were bound to be wondering how come he was here when his eight years with the Watch wasn’t quite up yet.

“Oh, no, sir. I was discharged after a wound.”

“A wound?” Selmy looked him quickly up and down. Jon knew he looked the picture of health other than the bags under his eyes from the long night. “Well, that’s a shame. You staying with your cousin and her husband, I hear.”

“Yes, sir. Sansa’s been mighty good to put up with me. And with Joffrey laid up…”

“Yeah, I heard about his leg,” Selmy said, giving Jon a penetrating look. Those eyes might be old but they were damn sharp, too. Jon told himself to keep breathing steady and looking Selmy in the eye. He was glad he couldn’t possibly hear his heart pounding away. Selmy stopped his staring and awkwardly cleared his throat before putting a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “You know, I worked the accident investigation the night your aunt and uncle died. It was such a damned shame. They were good people. I was the one that came to the house and told your cousins that night.”

“Yeah, I know. Robb called me right after.”

His cousin had been heart broke on the phone and Jon had heard Sansa crying in the background. He’d been finishing up his ranger training and his CO had said he could go home for the funerals. He’d felt so adrift, already wondering if he’d made a mistake joining to be topped by the crushing guilt of failing them all somehow. Then, Robb had been killed before he’d even made it back.

“The accident was…well, I wouldn’t have thought it’d be fatal just looking at it as I drove up but you never can tell.”

Hadn’t he wondered about that since he’d learned of Slynt? Was someone’s greed behind Uncle Ned and Aunt Cat’s car crash just like it had been with Robb’s death? B _ut which man had given that order and to who?_

Was Selmy trying to help or lead him into a trap? Jon sucked in his cheeks and told himself to stay calm and not betray anything.

“Yeah. You never can tell. Auto collisions can be tricky.”

“And your cousin Robb. That’s eaten at me for years that we never solved his murder. Freak car accident, random hold-up and a shooting. It’s all so…senseless.”

“Uh huh…” _Keep your mouth closed. Don’t say a word. Act like that dumb hick boy from the holler they all think you are._

“I am very sorry for the pain you and your cousin have had, Jon. I hope you know that.”

Selmy’s eyes were kind and his expression sincere but he was a dedicated detective and had worked for Joffrey’s father for years. It was safer not to trust.

_You are not my enemy but neither are you my friend. I’ll steer clear of you if you’ll steer clear of me. I don’t wanna put you on my list._

“Thank you, sir. We ain’t got any choice but to work through it, I reckon. At least, I’m back and we can rely on each other now.”

“That’s true and good to hear. Your cousin is a very sweet lady. You take good care of her, you hear?”

“Yes, sir. I intend to.”

 

* * *

 

_Running through the woods at night with the trees looming overhead. The owl and the nightjar were calling out. This was their time._

_She paused and sniffed. Something was there, quivering behind that bush, hoping not to be found. A lone rabbit burst from the bush just as she moved closer and skittered across the fallen leaves. Its terror was tangible as it fled. Crunchy little bones and hot blood. She could almost taste it._

_But that would have to wait though._

Come here, _she called_. Come to me.

_She shook her head but could not resist. The woman was inside her. She’d tasted her blood and then she’d shared her body in return. They were bound now._

_The alpha male would be with her, the white wolf. Instinct stirred and the ache as well. Perhaps tonight. Perhaps tonight he would mount her and claim her at last. Her womb might quicken with his seed. They would be a pack, inseparable from that night forward._

_She turned away from the rabbit and answered the call._

 

~~~~

 

Sansa’s eyes returned to normal and she felt the blood rushing to her cheeks. Lady wanted Jon…or the wolf version of Jon anyway. It wasn’t as complex as human desire. It was instinct, the drive to procreate and survive but it was no less powerful. Sansa wasn’t sure how she felt about it. He was hers but Lady was part of her, too.

_Do my desires affect Lady? Or do hers affect me?_

The wolf came into the clearing where they both were. Jon stood between her and Lady, acting as her protector. He growled softly and Lady whined and bared her tummy, showing her submission to him. He sniffed her and then moved away.

Last night, she’d come so close to telling him she was ready for the next step in their intimacy. After all the unpleasantness she’d known at Joffrey’s hands, she’d wanted time and he’d given her that. He’d give her all the time she needed, she knew. But their loving was the sweetest thing and she found she wanted more.

“Hello, Lady,” she called to her wolf. “We’ve got other things to do tonight beside pine for our fella.”

Her eyes rolled back and she returned to the wolf. Soon she would taste the blood. Together, she’d hunt with Jon as Lady tonight. Maybe they’d find that rabbit or maybe a deer. _And soon we’ll hunt for bigger game._

Trant had died three nights ago but his disappearance had created more of a whimper than a bang. It helped that the man had not been well liked by anyone. Joffrey had been disturbed by the news though.

 _“First Blount gets killed and now Trant’s missing,”_ he’d said, visibly shaking. _“What do you reckon is going on?”_

Sansa hadn’t been sure if the shaking was due to fear or the withdrawal symptoms. Jon had cut back his medication to nearly nothing in retaliation for Luwin. He’d been so sick, vomiting and diarrhea, along with the sweats.

 _“Please, Jon,”_ she’d heard Joffrey whispering as she finished up the hamburger casserole she’d made for supper. _“I promise I won’t take no more like that again.”_

Who was this man? He hardly sounded like her self-assured and overbearing Joffrey at all.

 _“No, you won’t ‘cause it’s all locked up,_ ” Jon had said in a very fair imitation of a disappointed father figure. “ _You need to finish up them Cheez-Its, too.”_

Sansa had found some satisfaction in watching Joffrey choke down the crackers he hated and struggle to keep them down.

Jon had ‘relented’ after dinner and dosed him up good so they could head to the woods without fear of Joffrey acting out. Sansa wondered how much longer it’d be till Cersei came back around. She’d been off visiting her brother for a while now but Sansa didn’t believe for a second that she’d forgotten about her beloved baby boy.

 

* * *

 

Tywin Lannister had a reputation as a shrewd (and ruthless) businessman. He was tenacious and tireless when needed. Unlike his wastrel sons or pathetic excuse for a son-in-law, he never shied away from hard work and long hours. He was also capable of making some rather unorthodox moves when needed to achieve a goal.

But there was nothing remotely unorthodox or unwavering about his routine.

Every day, he rose at 6AM sharp to begin working in his study. Every morning, he’d be brought a fried egg liberally sprinkled with pepper, a slice of toast with a light smear of butter and a full pot of coffee to break his fast. By 8:30, his driver Amory Lorch would be pulling his boss’s full-size luxury sedan around front of the house where he’d stand and wait until at precisely 8:40 the front door would open. Tywin’s butler would open the door, hand Mr. Tywin his preferred cane topped with a golden lion’s head before bowing as his employer walked sedately down the front steps to where Lorch would be opening the car door.

He’d then be driven to his office down town and work till 8 PM before returning home for his supper and to work some more in his study till 11 when he’d finally retire to his bed.

The stretch of highway between the outskirts of town and his estate passed along the bayou and was lonely and isolated. There was a stark beauty to the bayou at night but Tywin rarely took note of it. There were papers to read over and decisions to be made. He had a legacy to protect and maintain.

His father had nearly squandered the family’s fortunes. The mining company, the sugar cane mill, the textile factories; Tywin had saved them from certain ruin. He’d labored for decades to not only see all of his holdings earning profit again but ensuring that he had the market cornered throughout the borough and seeing to it all his competitors were run out of town. Those who opposed Tywin Lannister lived to regret it.

But he worried more and more of what was to become of all his hard work when he passed one of these days. Jaime scoffed whenever he tried talking to him of his duties as a Lannister. Tyrion might be clever but he would likely drown himself in wine and whores and let it all go to ruin out of pure spite. And that oaf he’d pushed his daughter towards, Robert Baratheon, would never hold so much as a share in any of it. The match had been a politically sound move (it never hurt to have a politician or law enforcement in one’s pocket) but he regretted calling that man his kin. Joffrey was disappointing as grandsons went. Cersei had spoiled him. He was headstrong, irascible and unwise. Tommen though…he might have potential. More malleable than Joffrey with a better disposition. He could be molded. However, Tommen was still a boy and the years kept slipping by.

He glanced at his driver, chomping away at his gum like usual. Lorch had worked for Tywin for years now. He was a decent driver and a skilled mechanic but he’d begun his employment in another capacity. All powerful men needed enforcers after all and if the Lannisters were famous for paying their debts, they were also rather renowned for collecting them, too.

Roose had wanted the Starks' land so badly. There was more than money to it for a man like him. Some power drew him to it which Tywin didn’t quite understand. He’d only wanted to capitalize on it and he had. Tywin had loaned Amory out to fix the car but it had been on Roose and his boy to finish them off while they were injured. Tywin would only sully his hands so much.

Getting rid of the Stark boy had been even easier. The girl had been stubborn about the sale initially but in the end a girl her age alone in the world and surrounded by the people he wanted around her…she’d not stood much of a chance. Roose had got his hands on the precious lands he coveted and Tywin had become that much richer. Simple business.

Tywin dismissed his reflections and put his papers away. They were almost home.

“Shit!” Amory cried out as he slammed on the brakes and the car rocked to a halt.

Tywin wasn’t wearing his seat belt out of habit. His knees met the back of the front passenger seat as he grasped the arm rest and grimaced. “What was it?”

“Tree down across the road. Thought I saw an animal or something, too. I’ll just check it out.” Tywin huffed. He didn’t like being late for supper. “Won’t take long, Mr. Lannister.”

Tywin settled back into his seat to wait. He could see Amory in the car’s headlights moving the log. He thought about digging his paperwork back out. He could do a little more work while he waited.

But just as he started to do so, the driver’s door opened.

“That was quick.”

“Yeah, I gave him a hand,” a stranger’s voice said as Amory was shoved into the front seat and the stranger climbed in after him. He had Amory's gun.

Tywin stared at the dark haired man as he clicked his seat belt closed and locked the doors. He didn’t recognize him.

“Who in seven hells are you?”

“Who am I? I guess you could say I’m your reckoning, Mr. Tywin.”

“What’d you do to Amory?”

“Broke his neck. I learned some handy skills up at Castle Black.”

Tywin smiled even though he was not amused. “You’re the Snow boy.”

“Sure am.” They were already moving but Tywin reached for the handle. “I don’t know if I’d do that, sir.” The car was rapidly accelerating. “Jumping out a moving vehicle won’t do you any good.”

“What is this? Are you kidnapping me?”

“Not exactly.”

The car kept going faster. What was this fool doing? “Are you trying to kill us both?”

Snow chuckled and shook his head. “Oh no, sir. I ain’t dying in some car accident like my aunt and uncle did.”

Tywin’s blood ran cold. This boy knew or suspected then.

“Maybe the crash would’ve killed Aunt Cat. I’ll say it would and give you the benefit of the doubt there but what’d they do to my uncle, I wonder? Stark men are hard to kill.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I heard about their wreck but I didn’t…”

“Like hell you didn’t!” he snarled. There was something feral in those eyes that glanced back at him through the rearview mirror. “Who did the killing?”

“It was Roose and his boy that killed them. I had no hand in that.” _Not technically a lie since I didn’t touch a thing_.

“Uh huh.”

Perhaps this boy just wanted answers. Maybe Tywin could try what seemed to work on most men. “The Boltons wanted your lands and took matters into their own hands. I only helped arrange the sale. I know Joffrey has been withholding that money from your cousin. I’ll make sure she gets it. In fact, I can give you more. I’m sure we can come to some sort of understanding.”

“It ain’t your money I want, Mr. Tywin, but maybe I’ll wind up with some of it anyway since a husband and his wife share those things, right? I just want her safe and for us to get back what’s ours.”

The car was going faster and Tywin was feeling sick at his stomach.

“Going back to all that stuff I learned up at the Wall, there was this one course they taught us, Emergency Vehicle Operation…I sure learned a lot. They even taught us about controlled collisions when you’re trying to stop the bad guy. Of course, it helps to have an edge when it comes to healing.”

“I’m afraid you’re not making any sense.”

“I make perfect sense, sir. Hang on tight now. There’s our tree,” Snow said just as he jerked the wheel.

The car careened into an enormous cypress on Tywin’s side and the last thing he ever heard was the sound of crunching metal and breaking glass.

 

* * *

 

 

She didn’t receive the 9-1-1 call because there wasn’t one but she could tell something big was going on from the sudden flurry of activity around the station. People were soon gossiping that there’d been a single-car accident on Casterly Road and there were fatalities. Some even whispered that it was Mr. Lannister’s car.

Her stomach churned. Jon had been planning something she knew but like usual, he’d not shared any details. There had been a particular look in his eye though when he’d asked if she was working tonight. He’d known she was. He’d just been letting her know something would be happening tonight.

Her father-in-law came bursting into the call center a little after nine and strode purposely towards her. Sansa’s heart started racing. Robert rarely ever spoke directly to her and when he did he never met her eye. She’d told herself that it was because he was ashamed of his son and the way he was but she knew better. He likely saw an uncomfortable reflection of himself at the way Joffrey treated her, a side of himself he might still be self-aware enough to not be proud of. And though he’d long since cast aside any affection for Cersei, maybe he saw a younger version of his wife when he’d see the bruises on Sansa.

“Sansa…you’re probably gonna wanna go home, girl.”

“Is it true then? What they’re saying?”

“Yes.” He awkwardly patted her shoulder. “Tell Joffrey that I’ll call him tomorrow with more information and we’ll start making the arrangements.”

“Cersei?”

“I’ve already called her. She’s coming home tonight.”

“Alright.”

She snatched up her purse and headed to the door as if she was about to break down. She wasn’t though. A small part of her could laugh but another part of her was riddled with concern for Jon. She thought she did a fair imitation of the stern and heartless old man who had died tonight as she got into her car. She pulled out her phone and texted Jon.

_I’m coming home. I’m afraid there’s some bad news I need to share with Joffrey._

_Be safe driving. I’ll be waiting up_ , he replied at once.

He was alive. He was home. She could finally breath again.

Joffrey was sleeping when she got home. She woke him up and told him but she didn’t think it made an impact. She’d try again tomorrow.  He'd need to be presentable for the family and the funeral, too.

She climbed the stairs and found Jon sitting on the bed with his shirt off. His shoulder was bruised and there were a few minor cuts. She wordlessly pulled him into the bathroom and treated his injuries.

“You hurting anywhere else?” she asked once that was done.

“My ribs a bit. I’m fine. Nothing I can’t handle with a little rest.”

She wanted to rail at him for risking himself that way. No wonder he’d not shared anything he was planning. But she knew a car accident wouldn’t draw as much heat as a murder. She said a silent prayer that Luwin’s autopsy report wouldn’t reveal anything suspicious.

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” she signed before she kissed him, slow and sweet.

His arms came up around her. “Bruised ribs ain’t that big a deal. I can hold my girl just fine, all night if she likes.”

“And do you think you can make love to your girl tonight?” He drew back and blinked at her. His throat bobbed and his mouth started to open. “Yes, I’m serious,” she whispered. “Make love to me, Jon. I want to know what it’s like for the man I love to make love to me instead of being…” She trailed off and didn’t finish. He knew what she meant. “Can we?”

He gulped and nodded before closing the bedroom door.  Joffrey wasn't any part of this.  Tonight was just for them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was never going to be as satisfying or fitting as him getting shot by a crossbow on the shitter but I hope Tywin's death wasn't disappointing at least.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon shows Sansa the way it's meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, I'd planned on including Tywin's funeral but decided their intimacy deserved its own chapter. Apologies if you were looking for more deaths this chapter. It'll be coming but as a victim of domestic abuse and spousal rape, she deserved this tenderness so...here we go!

 

_Uncle Benjen was tending the campfire as Uncle Ned spoke. He’d already had ‘the talk’ with them both a couple of years earlier but he’d decided it was time to reiterate some things now that they could shift. Being a teenage boy, Jon found it humiliating and silently resented that he was being subjected to this when he hadn’t done a thing._

_“Mating and making love ain’t entirely the same thing but when wolves mate, it’s meant to be for life, for however long they both live at least.”_

_Robb was studying the ground between his feet but nodding to show he was listening when Jon snuck a glance at him. Robb always did everything right as far as Jon could tell…until tonight._

_It was the dark of the moon but their keen eyes needed only starlight to guide them. They’d been racing ahead of their elders, reveling in their speed and strength and forgetting the troubles of Algebra and such. Their paws had hardly seemed to touch the forest floor. Robb had been edging ahead of him and Jon had wanted to win._

_Fast and heedless of their surroundings, they’d happened upon the she-wolf before they’d even caught her scent. But once they did…she was separated from her pack and clearly in heat. She’d whimpered and bared her throat in invitation to whichever of them wanted to be the alpha. Jon’s baser instincts had been stirred but only in a passing sense. He’d had no plans to act at all._

_Robb however had snapped at him, driving him back, and started circling her when his uncles had appeared through the brush. Fangs had been bared and the forest was filled with growls before they’d shouldered Robb away. Uncle Ned had even turned and nipped at Jon to ensure he knew his place. He didn’t need the reminder. He’d followed them sullenly back to their camp and shifted when they did._

_“We become wolves but we ain’t really wolves. I won’t pretend that our kind haven’t mated with them before because they certainly have. Some of our ancestors even wound up choosing she-wolves over wives but either one of those is a commitment and it’s not a decision to be made lightly.” Robb opened his mouth to apologize but Uncle Ned held up a hand. “It’s alright. Sometimes the animal takes over a bit but this is part of that control we’re hoping to teach you both. The things you do as a wolf follow you even when you’re a man again.”_

_Of the two of them, it was always Jon who struggled with control. Somehow, he took a bit of satisfaction in knowing that it was Robb who’d had trouble this time._

_He didn’t want a wolf mate but he might want a wife someday, a pretty girl who could sing and make supper as good as Aunt Cat maybe. One who’d sit by the fire with him in the winter and brush out her long red…_

_He clamped his eyes shut. He hadn’t meant to think on that again. Why’d she have to haunt his thoughts all the time?_

_There were some pretty girls at school and there was some so-called easy girls there, too. For himself though, he didn’t mean to lay with any girl till he could call her his wife. His own parents’ story had already settled him on never doing some poor girl that way. Then, there were those zealots down in the Bayou who treated him like trash for being born out of wedlock. He wouldn’t ever want that for a child of his._

_“We live longer than wolves though and our lives are far more complicated,” Uncle Ned added, causing Jon to open his eyes again. “You may make mistakes but remember what we teach you and just do your best, boys. That’s all I can ever ask of you.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Jon closed the bedroom door. When he turned back around, she’d already shed her top but there was something hesitant about the way she stood there still holding it. He didn’t care for it. That confidence of a second ago was gone. She shouldn’t be afraid of him and, if she’d changed her mind, he wouldn’t say a peep. He wasn’t sure it was Joffrey and those vows spoken in a sept that was bothering her this time either.

_“Make love to me, Jon. I want to know what it’s like for the man I love to make love to me instead of being…”_

Instead of being what?

He feared he already knew.

Denied. Used. Mistreated. _Raped_.

That thrumming rage took off like a shook-up soda can being opened for a second and he had to clench his fist. He couldn’t let it distract him if he was going to do this right.

He drew a deep breath and held up his hand when she reached to unhook her bra. She might want sex but she wanted more than that. She deserved more than that. She wanted sweetness. His girl needed tenderness after everything she’d endured. He planned to assure her that every corner of his heart was hers. He also planned on giving her as many orgasms as possible.

She was so beautiful in the lamplight, her hair rippling like a fiery halo, and her creamy skin begging for his touch. They both still wore their jeans though so he might manage to keep his head together for another minute or so. _Maybe_.

“Before we go any further, I’d like to say a thing or two.”

“Alright.”

He’d kissed her dozens and dozens of times by now and explored every inch of her body. They’d loved each other with their hands and mouths but this was something else. He’d meant to wait till she was a widow for this but if she wanted it…well, she could have anything she asked of him.

Her marriage to Joffrey didn’t amount to much in the eyes of the old gods. He’d forsaken their vows anyway the first time he’d laid a hand on her in anger to Jon’s way of thinking. And while Sansa wouldn’t be the first woman he’d ever lain with, Jon already knew she would be the last.

He walked over to stand before her, wrapping his arms around her slim waist. Someday, he’d want to see it expand with his child but not just yet.

“I have some condoms in my drawer there.” He’d bought them a while back on the chance that this night might come.

Jon sure didn’t plan on anything happening to him but this was no game he was playing. His uncles, his aunt, Robb…they hadn’t planned on dying either. Until his killing days were done, until the Boltons were gone for good, he didn’t want to take the chance of leaving her alone with a child to raise.

A thoughtful look and then she nodded in agreement. “We won’t need them forever.”

He didn’t plan on that either.

He tugged her closer, loving how perfectly she fit against him. He loved the flare of her hips. He loved the silk of her hair and the satin of her skin pressed against him as he dipped his head and kissed her warm mouth. She raised her arms to wrap them around his neck and tilted her head to one side, an invitation to deepen the kiss…an invitation to a whole lot more.

Her fingernails were teasingly scraping the base of his skull, sending shudders of longing through him. He wasn’t going to keep his head much longer at this rate.

Their lips were still touching when he spoke again. “Will you marry me, Sansa?”

Her eyes sparkled and the corners of her mouth turned up. “You know I will.”

“Say it.”

“I’ll marry you.”

“Before the old gods?”

“We’ll still need to visit the town hall.”

“I know. We’ll be all legal but…”

“I’ll marry you before the old gods, Jon.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. I already dreamed it. Lady was our witness and we consummated our marriage right beneath the heart tree.”

He blinked in surprise. He’d thought to ask the Reeds and maybe a few of the others to attend their wedding. He’d figured she’d want a friend there to hold her flowers or something but nobody was getting invited to witness that.

_Maybe we’ll just host a little cook-out afterwards._

He lifted one finger to trace her lips and cheek. “Uncle Benjen told me when the old ones promised themselves to each other, they’d plight their troth with certain words.”

Her face was soft and dreamy looking. “I remember. There’s a passage in Granny’s journal about it.”

“Could we say the words? I know it’s not the same as marrying before the heart tree but the promise is still sacred.”

“Yes, Jon. We should say the words.” They clasped their hands together between them. “I’ll say the first line and then you follow, alright?” He nodded eagerly and she began. “Be my comfort in the darkness,”

“Be my song throughout the day,”

“We’ll share our bounty at harvest time…”

“…and our hearth in the dead of winter.”

“And, when spring and summer return,”

“…may the gods bless us with children.”

Jon’s heart was fuller than it’d ever been as they sealed the promise with a kiss. And, as the kisses grew more passionate, he walked her backwards to the bed. He unclasped her bra and quickly pulled her close to him again, flesh on flesh while their mouths barely parted to draw breath.

“Your skin is always so warm.”

The wolf blood. “You’re warm, too.” They fumbled with buttons and zippers, shedding the rest of their clothes.

“I’m the one who steals the covers at night.”

“You can have them. You’re warm where it matters most,” he said, placing his hand over her heart. “I love you, Sansa.”

“I love you, too.” She hugged him and inhaled deeply. “You smell like pine trees.”

 _I had to block the road earlier somehow._ He decided she didn’t want to hear about that right now.

“Huh,” he said noncommittally. “You like it?”

“I do,” she sighed as he laid her back on the bed.

 

* * *

 

_Be my comfort in the darkness._

_Be my song throughout the day._

His hand was tenderly cradling the back of her head when it touched the pillow. His expression was intense but loving. It made her shiver in anticipation. She could already tell this would be different than anything she’d known in the past. Not just because Jon was her soul mate and not just because he would treat her with love and care, but because this was a man who loved her for herself and saw her as a person rather than a thing that belonged to him.

Things had not always been awful with Joffrey exactly but even back before he’d stopped hiding his true self from her, sex had always been about what he wanted and never about her. And ever since that night she’d tried to say no in the early days of their marriage, she’d realized it would never be about her joy.

But this was not Joffrey. This was Jon.

She slid her hands up and down his muscled shoulders and arms, mindful of his bruises from tonight. She moved them down along his narrow waist till she could squeeze his firm backside. He was perfect to her eyes.

Propped on his elbows, he leaned down to kiss her, his lips melding against her own. His hand moved from the back of her head to cup her face. Her breath was growing short, a delightful dizziness, and her heart was racing. They’d kissed so many times already but she loved the intimacy of it. From that prickle of his beard to the way his grey eyes fluttered closed sometimes, she knew she’d never tire of any of it. And his kisses never left her with that clawing desperate desire to get away like other kisses she had known.

When Jon moved his hand down to cup a breast at last, Sansa was already wet.

“Please, Jon,” she moaned, arching her back and subtly guiding him that way.

She saw the flash of those white teeth and that devilish grin of his before he lowered his mouth and found a nipple. It always sent the most delightful rush all through her and he was chuckling when she started squirming. His lapped and suckled her breast while his other hand slid down between her thighs.

“Yessssss,” she panted breathlessly as her hips rolled, bringing pressure where she wanted it from his palm.

“That’s right, my girl. We’re just getting started and I’m gonna love you all night. Do you have any idea how long I’ve burned for you?”

“Since you were still a boy, you said.”

“Yes, so fucking long. Relax for me now,” he said, lazily circling her clit and moving to her other breast. “Let me make you come.”

He applied more pressure and she rocked against his hand. It was nearly too much, his mouth on her breasts and his fingers inside of her. That familiar tightening sensation was building up, hurtling her towards that precipice that he’d led her to several times already. She gasped and looked down in time to see those smoldering grey eyes watching her. Then tension reached its peak and everything crashed around her. Sansa cried out his name over and over as she gave in. The release left her limp and hazy but still aching.

His eyes were dark as sin now and he smiled wickedly as he raised his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean like a starving man.

“How was that for a start?” he asked with a self-satisfied grin.

“I think you know.” Sansa reached down to stroke his cock. Hot and hard as steel but the skin was velvety soft, she relished his groan as she increased her pace. “What should we do about this though? I said I wanted you.”

“You can have all of me, sweet one.”

He made no move to hurry her up or slow her down. She loved the way he let her set the pace and touch him as she pleased.

As she continued her ministrations with one hand, the other traced his scars. It hurt her knowing that those men had done that to him but the scars reminded her of the gift the gods had given them both, another chance to find each other. “We’re meant to be, Jon. They sent you back for this.”

He looked abashed and she knew he still felt guilt over not being here all along. “I wish…I wish I’d never left.”

“I know,” she said, kissing his forehead, hoping to send that sorrow on its way. Sorrow had no place here tonight. “I wish I’d gone with you when you asked but we’re together now.”

Soon, they were back to kissing as she stroked him harder, faster. A small amount of fluid came out the tip and she lightly rubbed her thumb over it, spreading it along the head and making Jon’s eyes roll back in his head. He stifled a moan. “You did say something about me making love to you, right?” he choked out.

“I sure did. Love me, Jon.”

She opened her arms and he quickly plucked a condom from the nightstand. She encouraged him to move over her. She wanted to be held close. His eyelashes were full and she touched them gently as he settled between her legs. He stroked her moist folds with the tip of his cock before he pushed forward slowly.

“Ah, fuck, Sansa. You’re…ah, fuck.”

“Yes…oh, gods.”

She closed her eyes to focus on the sensation of him filling her, stretching her so perfectly. A teasing back and forth commenced of him pulling out part way and her chasing him by lifting her hips before he’d sink inside as far as he could go.

His eyes were lively when he pulled nearly all the way out and she grumbled. “Should I stay put?"

“No, I like you moving but don’t go that far.” She dug her fingers into his ass and held him closer. “Oh, right there.”

He bucked against her. “That there? Oh fuck, yes.”

As they fell into a rhythm, she could already tell she was heading towards bliss once more. Jon lowered his mouth to suckle her breasts and she ran her hands up into his hair, keening beneath him as her fingers speared through his soft curls.

“Faster,” she whispered. “A little harder.”

He heard her and lifted one of her legs up around his hip. He started trusting into her steadily, just right, as a stream of sweet hot words came pouring forth. She didn’t mind that some of it was dirty. His words weren’t demeaning like other talk she’d heard. So, while Jon babbling on about how perfect her tits were or how wet her pussy felt might not be considered poetic or polite, she appreciated the tone of reverent adoration in which it was said.

He was grunting with each thrust now and he started to lose his rhythm. “I’m…shit, I’m gonna come, Sansa.”

“Me, too,” she cried, his admittance seeming to flip some switch for her. “Oh, gods…me, too! Come, Jon!” she wailed as pleasure enveloped her.

Everything else disappeared and there was only her and Jon in that moment, just like it had seemed years ago at Lonely Lake when they’d been kids swimming in their underthings on a summer night under the stars.

And when the ringing in her ears started to fade, she knew that her mother had been right after all.

 

* * *

 

_“What’s it really like, Mama?”_

_The power had been knocked out by an autumn storm and they’d only had a single lantern burning. The generator had died so Daddy had gone to the store. Robb had been out on a date._

_The conversation had taken a turn and Sansa had felt brave enough to ask. She’d been fifteen and had questions that went beyond what she’d learned in Health and Wellness. Perhaps the veil of darkness in the house had made it easier to speak the words._

_“Sexual intimacy with a man you love who loves you too is a very special thing, Sansa. You’ll see someday.”_

_“Is it hard?”_

_“Sansa?!”_

_“I mean, is it hard to do? Not the other…where the boy’s…” Her face had been on fire. At least, Mama hadn’t been able to see._

_“Gods, no,” her mother had laughed. “It’s nature, not rocket science. I’m sure you and whichever lucky man you marry someday will do alright. It takes a bit of practice and learning at first but, with the right man…”_

_“It’s nice?”_

_“More than nice. It’s one of the nicest things once you both find the way of it. It can be the sweetest thing, darling girl.”_

_“They say it hurts for the girl.”_

_“A little the first time, I’ll say, but that’s a passing thing.”_

_“But what if he’s not the right man?”_

_There’d been a silence and she could’ve sworn she’d felt her mother’s grimace. “Sansa…” She’d taken her hand and kissed it. “You don’t need to worry. You’ll find him just like I did, honey. You’ll be good to him and he’ll be good to you.”_

_She’d trusted her mother and believed._

_And then the gods had taken everything she knew and turned it on its ear. Was anything true now?_

_Sansa was frozen in place, taking in every word as her face kept getting hotter. She knew she shouldn’t be listening. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. She’d been slow changing after gym class because her period had arrived unexpectedly and she’d had to deal with that. She couldn’t help that they were loud. She hadn’t wanted to hear them. She could’ve left five minutes ago. Somehow, she was still sitting here._

_“I told him we couldn’t go all the way,” Myranda said. “My daddy would kill me if I wound up pregnant but he kept on and on, promising he’d pull it out.”_

_“Oh, that’s likely,” Ami snorted._

_“So, you did it?” Mya asked._

_“Yeah. It wasn’t nothing special.”_

_Wasn’t the first time supposed to be special? Wasn’t is supposed to be magical, like a song? Could she be wrong about that, too?_

_“Did he say he loved you?” Mya asked._

_“Oh, he said lots of things.”_

_“I’ll bet he did,” Ami laughed._

_Of course, the boy should say he loved her. How could Ami sound so callous about it? Had poor Myranda found the wrong boy maybe?_

_“Did it hurt?” Mya asked._

_“A bit.”_

_“How much?”_

_“Enough to know it hurt, okay? It wasn’t all that great but it was over quick enough. ‘Uh…your tits are so…un-un…oh, shit!’ A real Romeo, right?”_

_“That’s…that’s disappointing,” Mya said sadly._

_Sansa had to agree._

_“It was.”_

_“Well, what’d you expect?” Ami asked. “That it was all hearts and flowers and rainbows and his dick would feel as sweet as kitten kisses when he rammed it into you in the backseat of his car behind the pawn shop? It’s just sex.”_

_Sansa gasped and quickly covered her mouth._

_“Somebody there?” one of the older girls called out._

_The showers turned off so Sansa gathered her things and fled the locker room._

_Her stomach was knotting up as she headed to Mr. Baelish’s class. Was that all there was to it? Was the act of love actually as brutish and unsatisfying as all that? She shouldn’t be surprised. Life was not a song. How well she was learning that painful lesson._

_She wished she could ask her mama again but her mama was gone along with Daddy and Robb and even Uncle Benjen. Jon was way up at the Wall where she’d told him to go without her. She’d already wondered a time or two if that was a mistake. But she had another year to go before graduation and she didn’t want to go to a school up there where she wouldn’t know anyone. She didn’t want Jon to regret asking her either. That thought made her want to cry. She rubbed at her eyes and kept hurrying down the hall._

_She couldn’t ask Mrs. Baratheon. It’d be too embarrassing. There were no thunderstorms expected and she couldn’t picture asking her even if the room was pitch black. And though Cersei was usually kind, sometimes there was a different side of her that came out when she’d had too much wine. Those emerald green eyes would narrow and her tongue would grow sharp and bitter at once. It made Sansa feel like she’d done something wrong even though she couldn’t think what it was._

_Joffrey had come visiting from college again last weekend and flirted with her. Or was it more than flirting? Could he really like her? She’d felt giddy over his attention._

_“You’re almost eighteen, right?” he’d asked out on the veranda after supper Saturday night._

_“Not for another couple of years,” she’d shyly replied._

_“That long?!”_

_She’d quickly tallied up the months. “Just nineteen more months.”_

_“Nineteen months, huh?”_

_Then, he’d laughed but it hadn’t sounded nice. He’d ignored her the rest of the weekend. She’d been hurt and wondered how come being sixteen meant she wasn’t worth talking to anymore._

_The bell rang and she yelped. She was late for class. She entered Mr. Baelish’s class, quiet as a mouse, but her desk was right up front. He was writing on the chalkboard and his back was to them. Maybe she could slip into her seat unnoticed._

_Just as she sat down and started pulling out her pen and notebook, he spoke. “Miss Stark?” He hadn’t even turned around._

_“Yes, sir?”_

_“I’m gonna need you to come and see me in my office after school this afternoon.”_

_A few students around her snickered but Jeyne looked at her with concern. That sick feeling in her stomach quadrupled._

_“Yes, sir.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Her cheeks were still flushed and her breast were pillowed against his chest as she lay half on top of him. She’d rode him mercilessly that last round and he’d loved every second of it. He’d been hard pressed between watching her tits bounce as he gripped her hips and staring at her face, his heart finding so much happiness in putting that look of ecstasy and wonder there.

But now, they were basking in that sweet afterglow and engaging in a bit of pillow talk. He hadn’t meant to bring up any bad memories for her but then again, maybe it’d help her to share those things with him. She could share anything she liked with him.

“And you started to think it’d never be what you’d hoped?” he asked as his hand made another circuit, slowly stroking its way down her back and to her ass before starting back up again.

“I did. I thought Mama had been lucky to find Daddy and I’d never have what they had.”

He kissed her brow which was a touch moist from their exertions. “We have it now.”

“We sure do.” She hugged him tightly and they stayed that way for a while. “Jon?” she said at last.

“Yeah?”

“What are we gonna do about Cersei and the funeral? She’s gonna notice how Joffrey is.”

“I know.”

“Other folks will be there, too.”

“I’m counting on it.”

“So…”

“Did I tell you Howland’s cousin sent me some photographs?”

“Photographs?”

“Uh huh. He has a mighty good camera. I might even wanna share some of them.”

He didn’t normally share this sort of thing because he figured the less details she knew, the less she could be held accountable if he somehow got caught. But he wouldn’t be the one breaking any laws this time.

Her brow furrowed. His girl was smart. “Tommen and Myrcella?”

“You said you didn’t have any quarrel with their uncles, right?”

“No. Mr. Jaime and Mr. Tyrion hadn’t ever done me any harm.”

“They ain’t done you any good either but I suppose that’s beside the point,” Jon huffed. “Tyrion loves his niece and nephew, you said.”

“He does.”

“And I’ll bet Jaime loves his kids.”

The rumors had been around for years but it was hard for most folks to believe such a juicy bit of gossip was actually true. _Oh, the scandal! Somebody pass me my smelling_ _salts_ , he thought with grin. If Mr. Tywin wasn’t already dead, this would probably kill him. Jon almost wished he’d told him. _You were a mite busy and finding out about Uncle_ _Ned and Aunt Cat was more important_. He’d need to tell Sansa that too but he wouldn’t burden her with it tonight.

The shocked way her mouth flew open was awfully cute. Then, she giggled like a girl who’d been told a dirty joke. He couldn’t resist kissing her again.

“I know I shouldn’t laugh.”

“It’s alright. People sometimes bring about their own fall and there’s some humor in that to me at least. But all that’s for later.” His hand stopped its little circuit. He squeezed her ass and nipped at her pulse point.

She smirked at him. “Ready again?”

“Sure am, if you’ll allow.”

“I’ll allow.”

“How many times now?”

“I don’t know. Three maybe?” she said, batting her eyes at him.

He tickled her side and she started laughing. “Try again.”

“Six!”

“Six, huh? Well, I’d best get busy. I meant to give you ten at least before the sun comes up.”

“Good thing our night’s not over yet,” she said as he rolled on top of her once more.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joffrey is forced to eat in order to get his pills...oh, and his grandfather is dead. Sansa remembers a conversation she once had with Cersei prior to Tywin's funeral. Some people attend the funeral that Jon's been wanting to see. And Robert gets an unexpected delivery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning which is a bit spoilery…a battered woman will die off page at the hands of her abuser.

* * *

 

Joffrey awoke to the sounds of them making breakfast in the kitchen. Sansa was singing and Jon kept laughing at something. It was annoying. He needed his Oxys.

When he called out, Sansa came and sat down on the edge of his foldout. It was the closest she’d come to him in weeks now. There were dark circles under her eyes like she hadn’t slept a wink but she was glowing in the morning light. She said she had something terrible to tell him.

“Don’t tell me we’re out of ‘em?!”

“No, Joffrey. It’s something worse.”

There couldn’t be anything worse. “Yeah, okay. Where’s my dose?”

“In a minute!” she snapped.

He couldn’t remember her talking back to him like that in a long time, not before his accident and Jon coming to stay anyway. He didn’t like it but she didn’t seem to care that he was frowning at her. She didn’t seem afraid of him at all anymore. Deep down, that made Joffrey a little afraid.

She told him his grandfather had died. As fuzzy as things were, he didn’t think she was joking but he couldn’t quite believe it. His grandfather had seemed larger than life. Then again, he was getting awfully old and he was going to die someday anyway.

Joffrey wondered how his fortune would be split up. Would it go directly to his mother and uncles or would the grandkids get a cut? Cella was still in college and Tommen was a kid but he was an adult. He should get his portion. He could buy a ton of the good shit with that kind of money. Maybe some of those bitches down at Chataya’s could hook him up with a dealer…or he could just go through the arrest record once he got back to work and find one. He wouldn’t need Jon going to Dr. Luwin for them.

His Uncle Tyrion had been on bad terms with his grandfather for years. What if that nasty little fucker got cut out altogether? More money for him. Joffrey started to smirk at the thought. The reading of the will might be entertaining.

But none of this changed the fact he still needed his dose.

“Your daddy’s gonna call you with arrangements later but I know how tired you’ve been lately,” Sansa said in a sweet voice. It’d been a while since she’d talked to him like that. It was good. “Want me to handle all that for you?” That was even better.

“Yeah, you deal with it.” He didn’t care about flower arrangements and mourners or none of that shit. And his leg was starting to ache on top of every nerve screaming out for his hit. “Go get me my dose.”

“You’ll get it after you eat,” Jon said from the doorway.

Joffrey hadn’t even heard him coming. He looked like he hadn’t slept either. Sansa stood and went to stand beside her cousin and it was like they were talking without talking. Joffrey didn’t like it. Jon put his arm around her waist and kissed her forehead. What the fuck was that?

Sansa left the room and Jon sat down a tray. “Eat it all up and you’ll get your dose after. Your mama’s coming by.”

About time. He was beginning to wonder if the self-involved bitch had forgotten all about him.

He looked down at the tray. Runny eggs and dry toast and tea. He already knew there’d not be a pinch of salt on the eggs or a hint of sugar in the tea. “Do I gotta eat this?” he mumbled.

Jon just stared at him. Jon was so stubborn and he wouldn’t let him have his dose unless he did everything he said. He shouldn’t have to put up with that. He’d tell his mother. She’d make Jon do what he wanted. Maybe he’d go stay with her for a while after all. She wouldn’t tell him no when it was time for his dose.

But then again, she might tell him he couldn’t have no more. She was always trying to control him when he’d still been at home. Sometimes, Jon gave him extras and other things.

Jon was…there was something about Jon that frightened him. He wouldn’t ever admit it but some nights he dreamed that Jon hovered over him in his sleep. Some nights, he even imagined Jon was talking to him and telling him things that made him startled awake in a cold sweat.

_“It’s comin’ for you. You’ll be prayin’ for death long before it finds you.”_

But he wanted the good shit. He wanted the weightlessness and the bliss. His leg hurt so bad and he didn’t deserve to hurt.

He slowly picked up his fork and ate like he was told, swallowing his distaste when the eggs dripped onto his shirt.

Jon was pleased that he’d cleaned his plate. He said he’d done so well he could have a couple of Ambien, too. He was snoring when his mother arrived a couple of hours later, feeling nothing but top notch and a-okay.

 

* * *

 

 

  
_She wasn’t sure what she’d expected but this wasn’t it. She’d worried Cersei might doubt her. She’d thought Cersei might even be upset with her. Mostly, she’d hoped she’d be sympathetic. She’d not anticipated total indifference._

_She gazed her fill at the blackeye, scrapes and bruises and then shrugged. “What do you want me to do about it?”_

_“He…he’s your son. Can’t you talk to him? Please?” Would the courtesy make any difference?_

_“And say what, Little Dove? Don’t beat your wife?” she asked in a bored tone._

_“I…yes.”_

_“Joffrey’s an adult. He doesn’t listen to his mommy anymore.”_

_Sansa swallowed hard and told herself to be brave. “I know he’s an officer but there are laws and if he…”_

_Cersei moved faster than she would’ve believed possible. Her red-painted fingernails were digging painfully into her chin and bruised cheek._

_“Do you think Robert will give a shit about him beating you? Where do you think he learned it from?”_

_Sansa gasped and tried to back away. “But…he’s sheriff and you’re…”_

_“His wife,” Cersei laughed bitterly. “Oh, he’s learned not to leave marks anymore on the rare occasions he troubles me these day. I’ve learned how to handle him. You need to do the same.”_

_“I shouldn’t have to handle him. He can’t treat me this way.”_

_“Do you think anyone in this town will take your word over his? Do you think my father will allow you to slander my son’s good name with your lies? Who do you think you are? You’re just some no account backwoods girl from the hollow who I took in after your parents died. Is this is how you would repay my kindness?!”_

_She’d seen Cersei angry before but never like this. She appeared unhinged. She’d seen Robert’s rages and she’d endured Joffrey’s. Cersei was just as terrifying in her own way. Sansa backed away from her pinching fingers and her fury._

_“Maybe I should just leave town and...”_

_“Leave my son and let people whisper and speculate about my family? I don’t think so. And, where would you go? You don’t have anything. Your father’s land barely brought enough money to cover our expenses in caring for you after they died. You don’t have any family left to turn to.”_

_“My cousin Jon...”_

_“That bastard cousin of yours who’s sworn to the Watch? I’m sure he’d be delighted to support a college drop out on his meager wages.”_

_How well she’d aimed that poisoned arrow right into all her insecurities. What if Jon didn’t want her? How could she burden him with her problems when she’d already turned his help away? Where could she go?_

_“But he…Joffrey raped me.”_

_“Raped you? You’re his wife, Sansa.”_

_Is that what others would say? There were laws against domestic assault and spousal rape but Sansa was no fool. Tywin Lannister knew everyone and so many people owed him. Sheriff Baratheon wouldn’t want his son or his department drug into some scandal. It’d be damn near impossible to get a conviction against him in this town. The victim would be the one on trial. She’d wind up discredited and only suffer more because of it._

_Tears began to form. She was trapped._

_“I just don’t want him to mistreat me.”_

_“Then, you need to get better at controlling him.”_

_“How?”_

_“Do what he wants. Keep him happy.”_

_“I’ve tried.”_

_“Not hard enough evidently.” The fury was gone and indifference had returned. Cersei poured herself a julep and ignored her tears. Feeling helpless and hopeless, Sansa rose to leave. “Sansa? Be sure and get some make-up to cover that black eye and cheek. It looks hideous,” her mother-in-law said coldly just before she reached the door._

 

* * *

 

 

  
Three days had passed since Tywin Lannister’s shocking death in an auto collision along with his driver. Folks in town whispered that maybe Amory Lorch had been taking nips from his flask on the clock though the full coroner’s report hadn’t come back yet. Detective Selmy had been asked to lead the case but, beyond Lorch having a BAC over the limit, no one expected much to come of that. Traffic fatalities weren’t anything unheard of, even single-car accidents. There’d been that one a few years back when Ned Stark and his wife had been killed after all.

Cersei Baratheon was rumored to be in deep mourning along with her brothers. Sansa knew it was a load of bull. Cersei had liked the power and prestige she’d enjoyed on account of being his daughter but, on the personal front, she seemed to be warming up to the notion of inheriting a third of his fortune. Sansa wondered if maybe she might contemplate finally leaving Robert. It didn’t matter. She’d waited too long for that.

They were a curious little family. Jaime Lannister was busy comforting his sister in a less-than-brotherly fashion. Tywin’s son-in-law was off finding his own solace in the bottom of a bottle at Chataya’s. He’d probably already run into his other brother-in-law there since Tyrion was reportedly burying his sorrows by burying his cock in every whore in town. Joffrey couldn’t care less about the old man’s passing beyond what it might mean to him…that is, when he was coherent enough to reflect on it at all. Only Cella and Tommen were likely to have shed any actual tears.

In her best dress made of dark grey silk with her hair twisted up in a bun, Sansa walked serenely up the steps of the sept. She was greeted warmly by the septon and several of the townspeople who’d come to pay their final respects to Tywin Lannister.

“Such a shame.”

“Yes.” _Not really._

“He was a titan of a man.”

“Hmm.” _I think the word you were looking for was tyrant_.

“We’re awfully sorry for your family’s loss, Mrs. Baratheon.”

“It was a shock.” _They’re not my family and I am a Stark_.

“Men like him don’t come along but once in a thousand years.”

“True.” _Thank the gods for that_.

“I know it’s been a rough time but you look lovely, Sansa.”

“Thank you, Jeyne.” _It turns out being in love (along with multiple orgasms a night) agrees with my complexion._

But she wore a smile suitable for the occasion and thanked them all prettily. All the toadies and bootlickers were lining up to try and ingratiate themselves with Tywin’s three children. She bypassed them and sought out Cella and Tommen.

“How’re y’all holding up?”

They hugged her in turns and said it horrible shock but they were doing alright. They might’ve loved him but they were young and she guessed they’d probably always been more than a little afraid of him. She knew they loved their mother though and she could pity them over what was to come. Cersei did love her children.

_But that will not save her._

Jon had printed out the address label for the large envelope at the local library and slipped it in the mail just yesterday. It should arrive at Chataya’s by tomorrow.

She was still catching up with Cella and Tommen when Cersei appeared and started hissing in her ear. “Where is he?!”

“He’s coming,” she said with a nonchalance just this side of indifference. “He’s slow moving with his leg.”

They’d made sure he was ‘resting’ when she’d come over the other day. Sansa had applied a bit of make-up to help disguise his unhealthy pallor while he was sleeping. _See, I_ _learned how to use it well_. She’d sprayed some disinfectant to disguise the whiff of corruption that followed Joffrey now. Cersei hadn’t seemed to notice. She’d been peevish but preoccupied.

“Why didn’t you arrive together? He’s going to be late for his own grandfather’s funeral.”

“Well, you know Joffrey. He’s an adult and doesn’t listen to his wife.” Cersei’s mouth pursed in displeasure. “But don’t worry. Jon’s handling him now,” Sansa shrugged before she turned her back on the heartless bitch.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Jon? Could I be…you ever worry you might be going a little crazy?”_

_“Why you asking?”_

He’d kept his chin tucked and ignored the urge to smile as he’d knotted Joffrey’s tie for the funeral. It had felt odd tying another man’s tie. He’d only ever tied his own and he hadn’t even wore one since the last time they’d had an inspection at the Watch. He sure didn’t miss that shit. But Joffrey had been all thumbs and couldn’t do it himself. The pain pills and Jyana’s mushrooms had done a number on him. It was almost pitiable how easy a kill he’d be…almost.

Joffrey’s green eyes had met his. Those eyes had lost their luster but the fear was plain to see. _“Last night, I woke up in the dark and saw something that couldn’t have been there.”_

_“Like what?”_

_“A wolf.”_

_“A wolf?”_

_“It was standing right over me. I couldn’t move. I screamed but no one cared. I think it’s gonna come back and eat me one of these days.”_

_“The wolf’s gonna eat you?_ ” Joffrey had nodded. _“Well, sounds like maybe your meds are playing tricks on…”_

_“NOOOO!! It ain’t that.”_

Jon had to bite down on his lip to keep from laughing at the terror in his eyes. Y _ou’re this upset at the thought of me taking away your precious meds. Just you wait_.

Jon leaned against the side of the Lannister Family Tomb, keeping close to Sansa but back enough to not draw too much notice, and watched the long line of cars still pouring down the single lane road of the cemetery. They buried their dead above ground down near the bayou.

He hadn’t stayed in the sept for the service. He’d never been inside one before today and he sure wasn’t interested in hearing about how gracious the new gods had been in blessing them all with Tywin Lannister the past sixty-odd years. He’d helped Joffrey to his seat and then walked back outside, his skin uncomfortably tight as he gulped in fresh air to cleanse the incense from his nostrils. He wondered how Sansa could stand it and hoped she wasn’t upset with him.

 _“Our kind belongs to the old gods and its where we draw our strength,”_ Uncle Benjen had once told him when he’d asked why they never went with Aunt Cat and Sansa to the sept.

But this part, outside with the breeze blowing and the sun shining, this part he could attend. Joffrey was already seated in the small group of chairs set aside for the family for this shorter graveside remembrance. He was damp with sweat. Between the unaccustomed exertion, the humidity and the pain from his leg, he was good and miserable. That suited Jon just fine.

Sheriff Baratheon’s suit was too small and his tie too short. His big belly looked ready to pop out from under his shirt, too. He was wringing with sweat worse than his son. He had on dark sunglasses but Jon suspected that wasn’t making the bright sunlight any more pleasant to bear for someone with a hangover.

Cersei had on an elegant black dress trimmed with gold and was carrying a rose. She wore a hat with a little wisp of a veil hanging down. She looked more angry that sad to Jon.

Sansa had been sitting by Joffrey but swapped seats to chat with Joffrey’s uncles. She’d said she’d talk to them and he appreciated it since he didn’t have any interested in striking up conversation with either of them. His clever girl would convince one of them to take their nephew with him when they left town tomorrow.

She glanced his way, her blue eyes flashing at him with a secret sort of smile, before she returned her attention to her companions. He’d loved her every single night since Tywin Lannister had died and he meant to again tonight.

Just as the septon said a few words to quiet the gatherers, Jon saw who he’d hoped to see today. Pale and unimposing at first glance, Roose Bolton was making his way towards the front of the mourners in a black suit and pinkish red tie, his milky white eyes squinting from the sunlight same as the sheriff’s. He’d not come to the sept but he’d made it here.

By his side was Ramsay who Jon had not seen since his school days. The years hadn’t improved his looks any. Fleshy with his lank black hair hanging to his shoulders, his eyes were the only feature that marked him as Roose’s son.

Jon could smell them from here and he felt that stirring in his blood, the urge to shift and fight. They were his enemies, the true enemy. They’d killed his kin and stolen their lands. Joffrey would be easy pickings, same as all the others had been honestly. These two could be deadly if he fought them at the full moon. The moon was waxing again but he didn’t intend to wait for it to be full to strike.

He knew the instant they became aware of him. Two sets of pale eyes turned his way. Roose smile politely and bowed his head to him. Jon returned the gesture. Ramsay gnashed his teeth like the beast he was. He started to move towards him but his daddy put a hand on his arm and said something. He attempted a smile after that. It was a terribly twisted distortion of one. Jon smiled back at him…and winked. The fake smile disappeared.

Five brutish looking men came up behind them as Roose found one of the few available seats and Ramsay started rapidly whispering in their ears when his daddy was busy talking to someone else. All six of them looked Jon’s way, leering and so pleased with themselves.

 _Ah_. Ramsay had found himself some friends. Uncle Ned’s words returned to him. _“They could have an army if they wanted.”_

He could feel Sansa’s eyes on him but he wouldn’t look her way. He didn’t want to draw that cretin’s attention to her. The day after tomorrow, he’d take her back to Winter’s Hollow for a gathering of their own. Ramsay wasn’t alone in recruiting a little army for himself.

But tomorrow, she was working and maybe some other business would be finished.

 

* * *

 

 

  
Robert Baratheon groaned like a bull and shuddered before rolling off Bessie. She inhaled audibly as if she’d been holding her breath the whole time. He supposed he might be getting a bit heavy.

His back ached as it always did anymore after a fuck and he reached into his pants pocket for a couple of his ‘mints.’ He popped them into his mouth, gave Bessie’s left tit a half-hearted squeeze and told her to fetch him some whiskey. She snatched up a flimsy little robe and threw it on. She’d just poured it when Chataya came sauntering in.

“Since when do you walk in on us without knocking?” he barked.

“You were done. The walls ain’t that thick. And, since when you getting your mail sent here, Sheriff?”

“Since never. What is it?” She shrugged and tossed the envelope at him. “This some trick to get me to pay Trant’s tab?”

“That scum owed more than money for the things he done here but there ain’t no fee for you, Sheriff,” she said begrudgingly.

Trant had been an ass and left more than one of Chataya’s girls unable to work for days or even weeks. He figured someone ought to do something about it. He just wasn’t sure it had to be him. It wasn’t like he owned the man even if he’d been his employee. He figured one of these whores might’ve taken him out but he didn’t know who and couldn’t figure out how they’d managed to cover it up. He couldn’t say he much cared either as the whiskey burned its way down his throat, chasing the Percocet.

He opened up the envelope next and tipped it to dump the contents on Bessie’s bed. A dozen or more photographs spilled out. “Who’s sending me porn?” he laughed.

He reached for his reading glasses so he could make out more than the fact it was two naked people. Their curiosity peaked, Bessie and Chataya both took a look and then gasped. It took him another second to realize why.

“There’s a message,” Chataya said, holding it out to him.

A singled sentenced typed on plain white paper: _The kids are his, too_.

 

* * *

 

 

  
“What brings you here tonight, Jon?” Shae asked with a barely contained smirk.

“Just checking on Sansa with the week she’s had and bringing her something hot for lunch.”

Sansa flushed and ducked her chin to keep from grinning too big. He’d been so sweet, saying he’d come and check on her tonight. _“Joffrey can watch TV without me for a little bit.”_

“Smells awfully good,” Shae said. “I’m going out to smoke and you two can have the breakroom.”

There was no door to the breakroom and folks kept walking past but he clasped her hand under the table and stroked his finger along her knuckles. She grasped his hand in response. She ate the leftover casserole one-handed so she could keep holding onto his hand.

“Anything exciting here tonight?”

“Not so far.”

“Did your husband’s kin get headed off alright?”

“Yes. Cella was driving Tyrion back home before returning to campus and Jaime was taking Tommen with him a few days to go hiking.”

“Sounds good.”

“Do you reckon Joffrey will be alright without your there?” _Do you think his daddy will come for him before we get to?_

“Oh, yeah. I think he’ll be peachy there for forty-five minutes. We’ll take him to see his mama tomorrow. She might could use the cheering up with Tommen gone.”

Anyone listening in wouldn’t think a thing unusual about the conversation.

Jon followed her back to her cubicle and said he’d pick up some things at the store. “Joffrey’s out of Cheez-Its,” he said with a sly grin. _‘I’m out of condoms’_ was what that meant.

She put on her head set and told him to make sure and get plenty just as a call was coming in. “9-1-1, what’s you emergency?”

“Mr. Robert’s done lost his mind!”

Her eyes widened as she recognized the voice of one of Cersei’s servants. “Falyse?” She snapped her fingers and Jon turned back around.

“He killed Ms. Cersei with his bare hands!”

She told herself not to smile. It was a tragedy. A horrible, violent man had murdered his wife. It could’ve happened to her. Three children had lost their mother.

But when her eyes met Jon’s, she gave him a nod of confirmation before returning her focus to her job. Poor Joffrey would be getting more bad news.

_And now, there’s no one left to protect you._

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Robert will get what's coming to him, too. 
> 
> I meant to update this yesterday but got distracted by family birthdays this week and that spoiler on Tuesday. I'll be updating my other WIPs soon and THANK YOU to those who are reading this one :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joffrey's crying wolf. Sansa likes what Jon's cooking and there's murder most foul right outside Blackwater Bayou's Jail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Gun violence.

 

His bowels were torn up again and his leg wasn’t right. It was on fire sometimes and sometimes he wondered what happened to his toes. He missed the floaty bliss. It didn’t seem to feel the same anymore.

Joffrey yawned. His head hurt something fierce. He couldn’t sleep worth a shit lately. Every time he’d start to fall into a deeper, more restful sleep, he’d wake in terror with the wolf’s hot breath still ghosting across his face. Was it real or a dream? He knew what he believed.

He’d holler but no one would come until it was too late…if they came at all. They’d roll their eyes at him and tell him to go back to sleep, that no wolf was in the house. The little boy who cried wolf. They were wrong though. He knew. Oh, he knew. Even when he didn’t see it, he felt it. It was always watching him at night.

It lurked in the shadows most of the time, just out of reach, but some nights, it’d come close. Its white fur would be reflected in the moonlight and its red eyes glowed. When the wolf would come, the fear ate him up and took control…like a spell. He always felt like he was tied down to his mattress, like his limbs weighed a thousand pounds apiece as he wondered which part of him the beast would go for first. It never made a sound but it was there, some spectral being sent to menace him each and every night since his granddaddy died.

 _“Why’re you here?”_ he’d asked it the other night.

It’d just stared at him with those red eyes like some sort of demon sent by the Stranger. Was this a test? Or was it Judgment? Judgment for what? And what had he ever done to deserve it?

_You don’t know?_

_No, that wasn’t my fault._

I’d had a bad day. I have a stressful job. She should know better than to keeping arguing when I’m angry.

I was drunk. I smoked some shit. It wasn’t me that did those things.

She laughed when I didn’t want her laughter. She cried when her tears annoyed me. She looked at me funny. She provoked me. She should be grateful for all I give her. She’s just some nobody. She told me no. She’s my wife and a wife should obey her husband. No one will stop me.

The chorus of excuses played through his mind but they did not give him the same sense of self-righteous vindication they once did.

Besides the wolf, there were more than the terrors of the night to plague him.

His daddy had killed his mama and, somewhere deep inside, there was a lot of sorrow over it with some guilt mixed in. Mostly though, he felt like the rug had been yanked out from under him but he was still waiting to fall. It didn’t seem real. Not much seemed real anymore. Just the wolf.

“Jon? Are they gonna let my daddy out?”

“Nuh uh. Your daddy ain’t getting out ever.”

“Should I see about making bail for him? I’m gonna be rich soon as them lawyers quit quibbling over my granddaddy’s estate.”

“He’s sleeping most of the time from what I hear. He’s probably depressed. Might be dangerous for him to be out even if the judge would grant him bond. And what would your granddaddy think if he were alive, you freeing your daddy after what he did to your mama?”

His mother had loved him and treated him good most of the time. Joffrey had admired his father but he’d not treated him half so sweet. Sansa had told him there was some evidence that his mother had been stepping out on his daddy which triggered him to act but said it was no excuse. Joffrey didn’t know what to think of that. He knew his daddy spent time at Chataya’s and why. Part of him couldn’t blame his mother for finding some action of her own. But a wife being unfaithful…a man couldn’t just let that go, could he? Not a man like his daddy anyway.

This wasn’t helping his headache any.

“He killed my mother. He should probably stay in jail.”

“Any man who’d abuse his wife…he deserves what he’s gonna get.”

Joffrey didn’t like the way Jon sounded when he said that. Jon was scary sometimes. “Yeah, but if she…”

“Excuses are like assholes. Everybody’s got one and they’re really only good for one thing.”

Joffrey was afraid to talk back to Jon when he got this way. He was afraid to talk back to Jon, period.

Another thought occurred to him. “Since I’m his son and on the force, does this mean I’m the sheriff now?”

“Nah, it don’t work that way.”

“It should, don’t you think?”

“Hush now. You’re distracting me from my shopping list. Eat your dinner.”

Joffrey looked down in distaste at the TV dinner, lukewarm chicken pot pie loaded mostly with peas and gravy that still had a few bits of ice in it and a tiny brownie that was hard as a rock. And that flat soda of course. He’d almost adapted to the taste. He didn’t want to eat this but he knew Jon wouldn’t give him his dose till he finished every bite.

Jon had a few papers in front of him and one caught Joffrey’s eye. He squinted to read it. “What’s that?”

“Oops. That one’s my honey-do list,” Jon laughed before he tucked it back out of sight. “Gotta keep Sansa happy so she keeps feeding me so good.”

Jon was always saying nice things about Sansa and her cooking. He acted like he’d been denied food when he’d been in the Nights Watch. And who cared about food anyway?

“Why’s my name on it?”

“Guess you’re in my thoughts,” he drawled, low and languid.

He raised his eyes to meet Joffrey’s. Those eyes were dark grey and something in them made Joffrey tremble. Why’d he say it like that? It gave Joffrey those bad vibes like the wolf’s visits. Jon’s eyes weren’t red but for a second there, they could’ve been. He couldn’t ask Jon about his red eyes. He’d think he was crazy and maybe take the good shit away.

“What were all the other things on there? Most of ‘em are marked out.”

“They’re things I’ve already taken care of for her.”

“But you’re still taking care of me, Jon…right?”

“Uh huh. I surely am.”

 

* * *

 

 

  
Detective Selmy reached out for half a second, almost like he wished to take her hand but restrained himself. He was a gentlemanly man who would not press a lady with physical comfort unless she indicated it would be welcomed.

But when she stumbled towards him, sobbing her little heart out, he embraced gently her in a grandfatherly manner and assured her he’d take care of everything.

“Don’t you worry none, Sansa. After everything you’ve already dealt with…it’s an awful thing. I’ll talk to your supervisor. You take care of your family and take all the time you need. If you wanna come back at some point…” He trailed off as her sobs renewed.

“I just can’t do it no more after everything but you’re so kind, Detective. My daddy always said our town was lucky to have a man like you in uniform.” She hiccupped and wiped her fake tears away as the old man’s conscience prodded him. _You knew and did nothing but I don’t hate you for it. Not every man is my Jon._

She hugged Shae on the way out the door and promised she’d give her a call. She gave her cubicle one last look, too. She wasn’t ever planning on wearing that headset again.  
Free of the job she’d never wanted, she walked out into the night feeling strong like her wolf.

_But not just like my wolf. I am strong, just as me._

For a moment, she let her eyes roll back and sought her out. She was there in the woods and she was not alone. S _oon, girl. We’ll need you all._

Smiling, Sansa climbed into her car, the one that she used to beg Joffrey to let her drive to fetch groceries. Never again. It was hers and she would drive wherever she pleased. She’d work again too but it would be the work she wanted to do. She could apply her education and experience and help folks, especially women who had lived through what she had. But for now, she’d focus on her family, her real family.

_Oh, I’m focusing on Joffrey as well but not in a manner I’ll be telling Selmy about._

Cersei was dead and Robert was languishing in his cell. The Lannister brothers would be returning with Tommen and Cella for this latest tragedy. No doubt Mr. Jaime was mourning his lover just as the children mourned their mother. Perhaps Mr. Tyrion wasn’t as deeply affected though he might avoid Chataya’s this time. Word had already got out from there about the pictures Robert had received that night and the message.

_The kids are his, too._

Oh, the scandals of small towns where everybody knows everybody and no one has anything else to say when such juicy gossip comes along. No Lannister or Baratheon child would be holding their head too high any time soon around Blackwater Bayou. Cersei’s funeral would likely be a muted affair compared to her father’s. The vultures were already converging, looking to buy up what they could of Mr. Tywin’s assets as his sons looked forward to turning their backs on Blackwater for good.

Jon was fixing supper when she walked in the backdoor. Not the TV dinner he’d fed Joffrey but his very own attempt at a pasta salad she’d seen in a magazine and pointed out. For a moment, she couldn’t quite fathom a man making dinner for her but this was Jon. She shouldn’t be surprised.

There was a pot on the stove boiling and his brow was scrunched up as he was looking back over the recipe and chopping tomatoes with their new knife set.

“Apologies in advance if it’s not as pretty as the magazine picture.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine. I appreciate the effort regardless,” she said, plucking herself a bite of the ripe tomato. “ _Mmmm_ …juicy.”

He licked his lips and grinned slyly but kept chopping. “Are you officially a former employee of Blackwater Bayou’s sheriff’s department?”

“Close enough. You planning on sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night some more?”

“Maybe. You want me to give him an extra special dose again?”

Maggy had said the potion came from a certain kind of toad she could find in the bayou and would induce a temporary paralysis. It smelled awful but it seemed to do the trick. Joffrey trembling and helpless…she shouldn’t like that half so much as she did. Soon the wolf would come visiting at other times and maybe he’d have company.

“I don’t know. I may want to keep you busy between the sheets tonight.”

“Oh, I like that idea. We celebrating?” Jon asked when he noticed the bottle of wine in her other hand.

“We sure are,” she purred before setting it down and spinning him to face her. She kissed him, wantonly…possessively. Perhaps there was a bit of her wolf in her tonight. He sure wasn’t complaining.

The knife clattered on the countertop behind him and he wiped the tomato juice from his fingers onto his shirt as she dropped to her knees and started unfastening his belt. “Oh, fuck.” He made a humming sound as she pulled his jeans and boxers down. He wasn’t hard yet but she could remedy that quickly. She mimicked his humming and took all of him in her mouth. “Right here in front of the food and everything, my girl?” He said it half in humor and half in awe.

“You’ve done worse things in my kitchen,” she tutted before hollowing out her cheeks to suck him hard and running her mouth up and down his length. In less than a minute, she couldn’t hold all of him in her mouth anymore. “Where’s my husband?” she asked, hoping he’d catch on to her teasing tone.

“Right here,” he growled. “You’ve got your mouth on his cock.”

“That’s the right answer.”

His hands were threaded through her hair but he didn’t hold her in place and he didn’t push her down his shaft either. He let her work. Her hand started stroking him, working in time with her mouth. Her other hand teased his balls and reached up under his t-shirt to pinch a nipple. He inhaled sharply and his head fell back. His hips bucked and he apologized. He didn’t have to. She encouraged him.

She grasped his firm ass and pulled him towards her. “That’s alright. This is me and you.”

She heard Joffrey calling from the next room as she could tell Jon was getting close. He was panting, his eyes nearly black as he stared down at her. Joffrey was going to be left waiting. He came with a grunt and she swallowed him down before standing to kiss him, boldly sliding her tongue into his mouth. He gripped her waist and hungrily kissed her back.

“Taste that?”

“Uh huh.”

“That’s the taste of my husband.”

“It sure is.”

“What’s he want?” she asked next, jerking her chin toward the doorway.

“What he always wants, his dose.”

“You want me to take it to him?”

He shook his head and, before she could do more than yelp, he had lifted her on the kitchen counter, right next to the tomatoes he’d been chopping. “Nah, I’m starved. His ass can wait a little longer.” He started lifting her skirt and she was flushed and eager, knowing what was coming.

“The pasta will get mushy,” she protested feebly.

“I’ll make another batch. I’m eating something else first.”

He tore her panties away like a man possessed and it only made her hotter. Her eyes rolled back again but not to visit her wolf. He dragged his tongue along her folds as she clutched as gently as she could manage at his curls. She stifled a moan as Jon teased her clit.

“I love my wife’s voice. It should be heard,” he murmured against her slickness.

Joffrey started whining again and she moaned louder this time. She wouldn’t stifle her pleasure. She’d ignore him and concentrate on her man. Fuck Joffrey, fuck the Lannisters and fuck Blackwater Bay’s sheriff’s department. She was going to enjoy every second of Jon’s loving.

 

* * *

 

 

Jon looked around the assembled group of elders in Howland’s den. Howland had chosen wisely. There were a few individuals Jon might’ve questioned but they were the old families of the Hollow who had a history with the Starks. Some of them were the blood of the First Men, too. They all had a right to know what was up.

He’d known every face here since he was a boy. Some of them probably still saw a boy when they looked at him but he’d show them otherwise.

Sansa stood beside him. He took her hand and addressed the room. “We mean to come home to live.”

“Were you needing a place to stay?” Big Jon Umber asked. “It’d be temporary but I got a shack you’d be welcome to.”

He spared at glance at Sansa, imagining her fifteen again and her lip curling up at the very thought. She just smiled pleasantly back at Mr. Umber. Jon bit the inside of his cheek to keep from snickering. Now wasn’t the time to explain why that was funny.

“Thank you for that kind offer, sir, but we already got a place. We just need to take it back.” A few eyes boggled. He drew a deep breath before saying the next part. “We also mean to live here as husband and wife.”

“Ain’t she married?” Maege Mormont asked.

“Technically, yes. But in front of their Seven, not our way, ma’am.” Several pursed their lips and nodded. There was not much love for the new gods here. “They’re splitting up anyway and we done pledged our troth to the gods.” She turned to smile at him so bright, his sweet one. He kissed her hand for courage. Mrs. Reed grinned real big and no one else batted an eye. He’d take that as an encouraging sign. “I ain’t beholding to the Watch no more and it’s time to take up my place and do what I was meant for. My uncles and Robb are gone but we’re still here. If y’all will do what you can to help us with the Boltons, I pledge to do everything in my power to guard our lands and protect the people of the holler till my dying day.”

“But it’s just you, boy,” Glover said. “How’re you gonna manage all that?”

“It ain’t just Jon,” Sansa said. “I’m with him, too.”

“What’re you gonna do, girl? I don’t mean no offense but it’s always been the Stark men who do the protecting.”

“And he ain’t even a Stark,” Arnolf Karstark sniffed with disdain.

“It’s always been the Stark men who become wolves to guard our lands and protect our people, Mr. Glover. That’s true,” Sansa said, sweet as sugar despite Glover’s condescending tone. To Karstark, her voice was like ice. “And he _is_ a Stark in every way that matters, Mr. Karstark. He has the Stark blood and can shift unlike any Karstarks I know.”

Howland harrumphed in agreement but Jon was too overcome to pay that any mind. He was too busy staring at the love of his life, his soulmate who would name him a Stark in front of all these people, the oldest families of the Hollow, the ones who might’ve loved his mama but loathed his daddy’s kin through and through.

Sansa kissed his hand this time and spoke again. “I’m not a shapeshifter and I can’t become a wolf in front of you like Jon can but that don’t mean I can’t help. Now, I know you might not have known this, Mr. Glover. I didn’t. Or maybe you’ve forgotten since Jon’s mama died young and our granny’s been gone a long time but Stark women are wargs. I’m a warg.”

There were a few murmurs from the group but then a howl was heard right outside the Reeds’ back door. Lady. She’d come to lend her support. Her voice was soon joined by others, the wolf pack who followed Lady and would do Sansa’s bidding. _An army of our own, an army of wolves_.

“A real she-wolf,” Maege Mormont chuckled with approval and jabbed her old bear of a brother in the ribs.

Feeling more confident, Jon continued. “We’re gonna take back our lands and make this place safe for all of us again but we can’t do it alone. We’ll need some help to get rid of the Boltons.”

“But we ain’t wolves like you,” Karstark said.

“No, but there are other ways you can help if you’re willing. I ain’t asking for everybody, just those willing and able to fight but I need to know who’s with us.” _And who’s against us._

Umber was rubbing his hands together, already excited at the prospect. Him and the Mormonts would back them. Liddle was whispering with Flint and Wull but Jon thought they’d come through. He knew Howland and Jyana were already on his side. But the Glovers and Cerwyns looked like they’d need a shot of courage to agree.

Karstark shifted from foot to foot nervously. “We been doing alright, haven’t we?” he asked the others. “This is only gonna stir up trouble and for what? The Boltons ain’t done any direct harm to me and mine. Am I supposed to risk my life ‘cause these two want their land back now? Ain’t no need for a fight if everybody just keeps their heads down and…”

“I’ve had enough of keeping my head down!” Umber roared. “And you should, too! What kind of man are you?! Ain’t done nothing to you, you say?! Are you part of this community or ain’t you?! What about them girls that boy of his raped? What about them boys’ bodies that were found two years ago? What about the folks who’ve gone missing? What about Ned and Catelyn Stark? Benjen Stark? Robb Stark and the whispers? What about the garbage Ramsay and his friends peddle to our children to make a profit? And what about the abomination they become each and every full moon and Roose trying to twist the magic of the gods for his own uses? Ain’t that enough of a reason?!” He walked towards Jon. He was a giant of a man but Jon stood his ground. He clapped him firmly on the shoulder and Jon told himself not to flinch. “If I fight for you, you’ll rid the holler of the werewolves…for good, right?”

“That’s what I aim to do.”

“That’s all I need to hear.”

It wasn’t long till Glover and Cerwyn were speaking up and offering their support after that. But Karstark refused to be swayed. He called them all fools and cursed them. “Bastard blood, a Nights Watch deserter and an errant wife…”

What happened next didn’t really surprise Jon. She’d always been a wolf even when she’d been beaten and made to think she was a sheep. The howls ceased and savage growls were heard outside the door now.

“Open the door, Jyana. I wanna invite my friends inside to meet Mr. Karstark,” Sansa said before her eyes rolled back.

The whole room stirred. Like a henhouse with a fox coming in, they watched in terror and awe as the wolves led by Lady stalked into Howland’s den, one by one, six of them in all. They sat down in front of Karstark as obedient as hounds, baleful looks interspersed with bared fangs.

“You can go on home, Arnolf,” Jon said dismissively. “Hide out up at your place and keep your head down. We don’t need none of your help. But if you think to betray us, just consider this…we’ll remember and wolves are slow to forgive.”

The man swallowed hard and looked left and right. His neighbors had no sympathy for him at all.

Once he’d left, the rest were all ears as Sansa pulled out the book she’d received from Maggy and the Weirwood limb she’d had him fetch last night. “The first spell that we’ll want to put into place is one of protection for the children and others who can’t fight.”

They all gathered round her but Jon tapped on Big Jon’s shoulder. “Can I have a sec?”

“Sure, Jon.”

“You still got my Uncle Benjen’s old hunting rifle?”

 

* * *

 

 

  
Detective Barristan Selmy had served Blackwater Bayou’s Sheriff’s Department for forty years and he planned to go on serving for however long the gods would allow. He might not run as fast as he once did but his mind was sharp enough to outwit most thugs. He’d like to say he proudly served but that was not always the case. His department and fellow officers left much to be desired at times and the same went for the man he’d called his boss until very recently.

“Van’s here, Mr. Baratheon,” he said as Preston unlocked the cell. He would not call him Sheriff anymore. He’d tainted their department and his office with his crime. He’d tainted it long before then if Selmy were being honest with himself. But there were courtesies to be followed for any prisoner…at least in Selmy’s opinion.

Robert’s blue eyes were not as bleary as they had been. They were etched with pain. Selmy didn’t think it was grief for his wife though. More than likely, he was still suffering withdrawals from the unaccustomed lack of alcohol and pain meds.

 _“I didn’t mean to go so far!”_ he’d cried like a baby when they’d come and arrested him.

Selmy didn’t know about that. He figured he’d had plenty of time to think twice on the drive from Chataya’s to his house. He’d acted anyway. It was the getting caught part he’d not thought too hard on.

The autumn morning was crisp for a change as they stepped outside the jail and Selmy breathed in deep. He’d lived in the Bayou all his life and was used to the swampy heat but he always enjoyed the first hint of cooler weather coming at last.

He had better things to do with his morning than be a glorified escort to court. There were other officers who could do this and there were plenty of unsolved cases on the books…especially lately. But Robert was still technically sheriff and everyone had looked to Selmy to take the lead and see things through every step of the way.

 _“We ain’t really gonna fry him, are we?”_ Arys Oakheart had asked the other day.

_“That’ll be for the jury to decide.”_

But despite the power of the Lannister name, there were enough good old boys who’d be on that jury. None of them would see a man electrocuted for losing his mind in a jealous rage when he learned his wife of 25 years had been sleeping with her twin brother all that time and that he was not in fact the father of any of their three children. He’d probably spend the rest of his life behind bars. Knowing Robert like he did, he’d probably find a way to get his whiskey, Percocets and conjugal visits even.

_I’m getting too old for this shit._

At least today was just an arraignment.  

Robert shuffled along beside him towards the van that would drive them the short distance to the court house in his cuffs, leg shackles and jumpsuit.

Just as Preston opened the van door though a shot rang out in the quiet morning, a rifle shot.

Selmy’s hand flew to his service weapon and Preston did the same. Both men dropped into defensive stances as they looked all around. The buildings around them had distorted the sound and it was hard to tell where it’d come from. No more shots were fired but Robert Baratheon was lying on the ground and wailing like a wounded aurochs. His bowels had voided by the time Selmy started to assess him and he thought maybe he’d pissed himself, too. But the dark stain in the crotch of his jumpsuit wasn’t urine. It was blood.

“It’s…right in the balls,” Preston gasped before he turned and vomited all over the pavement.

Selmy wasn't sure exactly.  He didn't want to inspect all that close but, if they were aiming for the heart, they were no marksman. However, if they wanted to cause this man a lot of pain, they’d done very well.

Selmy’s sharp eyes looked all around but he saw no sign of the shooter. They’d have to figure out where the shots had come from and search for evidence. Somehow, he didn’t think they’d find much.

“Preston, get a hold of yourself and call Doc Luwin down here!” he shouted as Arys came out of the station. It’d probably be pointless given the way blood was already pooling and spreading across the sidewalk. _Lots of blood vessels down there._

“What in seven hells…” Arys murmured as he cupped his crotch.

“Arys, get your hands off your dick and find out where Jaime Lannister is!” Who else had the best motive to kill Robert? Plenty of people probably.

“I don’t even think he’s in town, Detective.”

“Well, we’ll start there anyway.”

But some gut instinct told Selmy this case might go unsolved just like some of the others. He couldn’t say in this case it’d cost him all that much sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

  
The full moon was drawing nearer and with it his strength returned but it was not what it had once been…never what it had once been. The sickness of the new moon came upon him while the moon was still waning and would stay with him for days. The gods seemed to take satisfaction in keeping him humble.

Roose knelt at the tree’s base. His yellowing teeth gnawed at the angry scab before squeezing out a few measly drops of blood from his fingertip, offering his blood as he did every day he managed to make it out of bed. The ground sucked it up greedily but nothing changed.

If only he’d been able to hold onto that book. _‘Spells and Practices of the Old Gods.’_ He’d held it in his hands once, certain at last that he’d found the way to unlock his full potential.

But the gods delighted in his torment for no sooner than he’d found it, no sooner than he’d read a page or two, the damned thing had gone missing. It’d been sitting in the backseat of his car but when he’d returned home, it hadn’t been there. He’d questioned the bookshop girl sharply. Well, Ramsay had. But to no avail. He still wondered if Ramsay had pawned it just to buy more cold medicine for his cooking.

_Speak of the devil…_

“What’cha doin’, Daddy?”

He didn’t turn around to look at him. “Praying. What’d you want?”

“I come to pray, too.”

Ramsay had little faith in the gods. Ramsay believed in Ramsay. He coveted power just as Roose did but inflicting pain was Ramsay’s idea of worship. Roose might be a monster but his boy was a whole other animal.

“Do not mock the gods, boy.”

“I would never,” he said, the laughter barely contained.

He knelt beside him and Roose had to temper his urge to withdraw. He smelled disgusting, like cat piss…like meth.

“When’re you ever gonna stop with that filth?” he hissed between clenched teeth as the wind stirred through the branches above.

“I don’t know. Maybe never,” Ramsay answered, that cruel, strange smile of his playing on his full lips. “When’re we going hunting?”

“Soon.”

“At the full moon?”

“He’ll be expecting that. He’ll probably strike before then so we’ll strike first.”

It hadn’t taken but a few minutes of observation from behind his sunglasses for Roose to decide a few things. Jon Snow was strong just as his uncles had been but he was alone. From what Roose had discovered and what he suspected the man responsible for, it was clear he was clever. But he had a younger man’s patience…in other words, not much. He also had a weakness. At least, Roose had a hunch he did.

He’d never once looked her way during the entirety of Tywin’s service. Not once as he’d been sizing up Ramsay and his boys or himself had Jon Snow looked her way even as her big blue eyes had flitted his way a few times. The way she’d looked at him and the way he’d so determinedly _not_ looked at her told a man Roose’s age a story of sorts.

Sansa Stark’s husband was a pathetic excuse of a man and her cousin had been staying with them since returning from up north. The intensity of those stares and non-stares made Roose wonder if she might possibly be more than just a cousin to him. What else did the boy have anyway? Why else would he have come back here for? And a few of those deaths…might they have been for her? He’d heard the whispers. He had a feeling Joffrey Baratheon wouldn’t be breathing for too much longer.

Sansa might be the key to controlling Jon Snow and defeating him.

He sensed the approach of the others, Ramsay’s boys. Roose had never wanted it to come to this. It was easier to maintain the status quo if it was just the two of them but some minions might come in handy, he supposed. They’d been slumbering since they’d been bitten after Tywin’s funeral but they were awake now. Come the full moon, they’d be in agony. That first time he’d changed…oh, Roose could still recall the pain. But he could also recall how strong he’d felt. They’d be fearsome and wild. He’d have to make sure he kept them under his thumb.

The people of Winter’s Hollow would never dare oppose him with Ramsay and his boys answering to him. And if he ever found that book and landed on the right spell to stay strong always, no one in Blackwater Bayou would be safe either.

“Have you found a way to change us early, Daddy?”

“No,” Roose said, allowing himself to smile now. “I just need you to fetch someone for me.” _Even you might be able to manage that._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone think old Roose might be underestimating Sansa? 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	17. Chapter 17

 

_“Which star’s your favorite?”_

_“I dunno. I don’t know the stars that well. Do you?”_

_“Yeah. Your daddy taught us all about them. I could teach you.”_

_“I’d like for you to teach me.”_

Sitting side by side with their hands intertwined, the porch swing swayed gently back and forth with twilight falling as she retold their conversation from that night so many years ago.

“Would you still wanna learn?” he asked.

“Yes.” That was precisely what she’d hoped he’d say. Lady knew the woods but Sansa did not know them so well. Instinct and scent could carry her far when she was in her wolf but she wanted all the information she could garner.

He scooted a little closer to her but that was alright. No nosy neighbors could see them sitting here on the back deck.

Sansa sighed as he put one arm around her shoulder and lifted his other to the heavens. “Do you see that constellation right there? That’s the Ice Dragon.”

“Everybody knows that one,” she scoffed. “The blue eye points north.”

“Alright then, my smart girl. How about that one there? You know it?”

She grinned at him and shrugged. “No. What’s it called?”

“That’s the Moonmaid.” He pulled her closer and traced it with his finger until she saw the shape of it. Once she saw it, she couldn’t _not_ see it.

“And what’s it tell you?”

“That tip right there, the three clustered together to make her hand?”

“Uh huh.”

“It points east.”

“Okay, so if I can find them in the night sky…”

“You can find your way but I’ll teach you more. When you know the night sky like the back of your hand, you can find your way home from any old place. You see that redness there glowing in the Moonmaid this evening?”

“Yes.”

“That’s the Red Wanderer. They don’t always align but when the Red Wanderer is visible in the Moonmaid like now, the First Men would say it was a fine time to steal a wife.”

“To steal a wife?” Why’d that make her want to laugh? “What good’s that do you if your lost in the woods?”

“None but I figured it sounded romantic.”

She rolled her eyes but then started giggling anyway. “You made that up.”

“Did not,” he said, half indignant.

The Children and the First Men didn’t have television or anything. She could easily picture them spending the nights beneath the stars creating stories about them. “Alright, alright…I believe you.”

Jon’s eyes were alight with mischief as he pulled her closer still. “Enough astronomy for tonight.” His voice was instantly deeper, sending a delicious quiver zipping through her body.

His free hand was on her knee and working its way up her thigh. “I gotta make supper,” she said as calmly as she could manage.

“I’ll help…” He lightly nipped her neck right below her ear and his hand kept moving upwards. “…but I don’t know if I got as much appetite for food as I do for something else.”

It was cool out but not too cool. Not the mucky heat of summer and not the bitter chill of winter. She liked this kind of twilight evening better than anything.

  
She dreamed of being back home in Winter’s Hollow and sitting out at night with him watching the moon rise and the stars come out on evenings like this. _Maybe we’ll make up our own stories about the night sky._

Most nights, they’d sit there in peace until they went in for supper. But maybe sometimes, Jon would be too eager and take her to their bed first just like he wanted to tonight.

  
On other nights, he’d stay with her as long as he could before going off to do what he must to guard the land and the people. Those nights might be hard but she wasn’t her mama. She could join him in the woods via Lady perhaps.

And in some of her imaginings, they wouldn’t be able to rush off to bed before supper in a heated passion because there’d be little ones climbing into her lap or Jon’s and then running off to play again. She’d call them into supper and secretly smile at their pouts. It wouldn’t be till after they were tucked into bed that Jon would take her to their own.

They were sweet dreams, all of them, and ones Sansa wanted to come true.

Cersei was buried. Robert was dead. Tommen would remain with his uncle/father. The full moon was drawing nearer.

They’d rallied what aid they could for the coming fight and, though it made her nervous, she knew they had done their best to prepare. Their plans were in place for making a move on the Boltons very shortly but it wasn’t tonight.

For tonight, Joffrey waited.

It was time for that cast on his leg to come off, time for the façade to end and those blinders to fall away. Time for the courtesies to go away and for the wolves to come out. It was time for Joffrey to learn the truth about the fate that awaited him.

Sansa stood up before Jon could get his hand where he wanted it. “Let’s take this inside, my love,” she told him. “It’s time to steal your wife.”

 

* * *

 

 

Joffrey was nearly unintelligibly as he screeched at them from the next room. Jon had given him placebos earlier instead of the Oxys. The pain was probably getting unbearable but there’d be no more medication. The withdrawal symptoms were already starting and could last a week or more. The doc had told him tales that addicts had shared with him. Coming off it cold turkey could leave them wishing they were dead instead.

_Perfect. You’ll be a miserable piece of shit for several days at least…and then the real fun will begin afterwards._

“Oh, gods…” she moaned and he put those thoughts aside. _Fuck Joffrey. I’m busy fucking Sansa._

Jon gripped her hips, slamming up into her where she was straddling him as he sat at the head of the kitchen table. The chair started scooting across the linoleum so Sansa reached back to grip the table to steady them. The fried chicken was getting cold but it’d taste just as good.

He drank her in, riding him there so wantonly and crying out as if they were alone in the house. _The dead man in the next room don’t really count anyway_.

“Louder,” that little devil inside him urged her. He wanted Joffrey to hear this and have no doubt.

“Jon… _mmm_ , Jon! Yes…oh, there!”

“What the fuck is going on in there?!” Joffrey screamed from the living room.

Neither of them answered him.

Her blue eyes darkened and she was meeting his frenzied thrusts with equal fervor. His balls were tightening up and he could feel her clenching around him as her nails dug into his shoulders.

“Are you coming?” he grunted as he fucked her harder.

“I’m coming! I’m…”

“Me, too! Shit!”

A loud and satisfied groan from him met her wail of ecstasy. They nearly drowned out that pitiful fucker in the next room.

Both of them were slick with sweat from their loving and Jon reverently kissed her tits before she started fixing her top and bra. He helped her to her feet and tossed the condom in the bin. She pulled her skirt back down and he cupped her ass.

“My panties?” she asked with a smirk, holding out a hand.

“What panties?”

She grinned. “A thief, huh?”

“Sure am. I just stole a wife.”

“Go on then. I’ll go get what we need for our little errand.”

“Alright. Don’t forget to pack the chicken.”

“It’s not a picnic, Jon,” she scoffed.

“It sure ain’t gonna be for somebody but my girl left me wore out and famished.”

She shook her head at him and told him to scoot. Stark naked, he walked into the living room.

“What the…what the fuck was…why are you…” Joffrey stammered.

“Hey, Joffrey. You get bored of having the remote already?”

“You…what were you…”

“Sansa and I got carried away in there making supper. She’s awful hard to resist. Her fried chicken’s probably the tastiest thing there is besides her pussy. I convinced her to let me to a little taste test for comparison even though I already knew the answer. Speaking of which, you hungry?”

Jon started chuckling as Joffrey’s mouth opened and closed a dozen times, his eyes bulging unnaturally as little spluttering noises escaped. It was the funniest damn thing Jon had ever seen.

Just as those eyes hardened and the little shit started to open his mouth, Jon moved in with lightening quick speed. He grasped Joffrey by the throat and squeezed.

His earlier levity was nonexistent when he spoke again. “I been telling you it’s coming, haven’t I? You were just too dumb to see it.”

Sansa entered the room with her arms laden. She was flushed, sexy as could be with her blue eyes shining and her red hair still mussed. Knowing she was bare beneath that skirt and likely still slippery only stirred him that much more.

“She’s something else, alright. A real beauty. I’d say she could be a model or a movie star if she wanted but she’s so much more than her looks.”

For a moment, he recalled the bruises and marks on her body he’d seen the day he’d returned. His grip on Joffrey’s throat tightened and he felt that savage beast inside shrieking to get out. He ignored it. He had things to say. He knew Sansa would have words of her own to say later on. He loosened his grip again.

“The thing is…she’s my sweet one, Joffrey, my darling little cousin who I’ve loved since we were children. She’s also my girl who I’ve dreamed of since I was still half a boy. She’s a good person, she’s smart and caring and thoughtful. And all she wanted was to be her kind-hearted self and to help people, to love and to be loved in return.”

Joffrey’s head was whipping back and forth between them. He looked like an animal trying to decide between fight or flight when he was in no shape to do either.

The beast reared its head again. “And what'd you do her?” he growled, low and menacing. “How’d you treat my precious girl that you married? You made her your wife and then…” He trailed off. Control was slipping.

But, he felt Sansa’s hand on his shoulder and breathed deep. _Not yet. He deserves to know her pain and her terror. He deserves everything he’s going to get._ He swallowed hard and straightened, letting go of his grip on Joffrey completely now.

“There ain’t enough gold or diamonds in the world to make me forget it, Joffrey. There ain’t enough of anything in this world that’ll allow me to forgive it. You dug your own grave and I’ll see you lying in it before this is done.”

Joffrey opened his mouth again like he might start raging at them at last. But when Jon shifted into the wolf, Joffrey screamed instead.

 

* * *

 

 

  
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

She heard a sniffle and then, “Shae? That you?”

“Sansa?” Three words and Shae could feel goosebumps rising along her arms. Years on the job and instinct told her something was very wrong. “Sansa, are you alright?”

“I’m…” Her voice started to break. Shae was going to kill that motherfucker if he’d hurt her again.

“Sansa, is it…”

“It’s Joffrey. It’s…he’s gone, Shae.”

“Gone?”

“I’m so afraid he’s done something crazy. He’s been so depressed ever since his mama and…oh, gods.”

Her friend was sobbing over that sorry son of a bitch and Shae wanted to tell her he wasn’t worthy of a single tear. She also had a hard time getting her to speak coherently at first.

“Where’s Jon? Is he there with you?”

“He’s here.”

Bit by bit, the story came out. Joffrey had been moody and depressed for days.

“And you’re afraid he’s suicidal?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Sansa wept between her hiccups. “But his leg had him down and then his granddaddy. His mama and his daddy and the rumors…my poor Joffrey has been through all seven hells over it.”

It was horrible and Shae might’ve felt sorry for any other family but Joffrey was a First Class Asshole. Sheriff Baratheon had been a gross, incompetent and misogynistic turd when he wasn’t busy being a raging bull. The Lannister woman had always been a bitch. But Sansa was a sweet girl. Everyone knew it and silently lamented that she’d wound up married into such an infernal family.

Jon had gone to the store to fetch Joffrey some more Cheez-Its and Sansa had decided to ride with him.

“He was watching the race. He seemed to be…I thought he’d be alright. I shouldn’t have left him.”

“Don’t go blaming yourself. I’ll call Selmy to come over and get all available units to do a canvas. He’s probably not wandered too far with his leg.”

“His cast came off earlier today. He was still hobbling but his car’s gone. Oh, what if he has a wreck like his granddaddy? Like my mama and daddy?”

Sansa was crying again and Shae probably wouldn’t get much more sense out of her. “Put Jon on the phone, honey.”

A moment later, he came on the line, He had one of those sinfully dark, gruff voices that Shae would’ve compared to catnip if it wasn’t so inappropriate right now.

No mattered how much Sansa demurred, it was clear to Shae at least that Jon loved her as more than just his kin. It was probably too soon for Sansa to realize it but Shae couldn’t help hoping that once she divorced Joffrey and was free maybe she’d enjoy the comforts a good man like Jon could provide.

But that didn’t matter. Her handsome cousin aside, they needed to find wherever Joffrey had headed off to. _Hopefully, to the bottom of the Bayou._

“Hey, Shae. We’re awful worried about him.”

“I know. I’ve already dispatched the officers and Selmy’s coming. Hey, Jon? Do you think Joffrey might’ve taken his gun with him?”

“Oh, shit,” he breathed out, the thought likely just occurring to him. “Uh…lemme go check.”

 

* * *

 

 

  
_The sheets were soaked with her sweat and his. She was bruised and hurting. Her jaw ached and her nose was bloodied. She was sore all over and her wrists were bound. He’d doubled the belt over between his hands and snapped it, warning her that’d be next. He’d be coming back soon. She was afraid of his return but she couldn’t find the strength to get up and run._

_“Jon!”_

_She reached for him but he was not there. Where was he? What was happening?_

_She could still smell the woods even though she wasn’t there. “Lady,” she whimpered. She wanted to sink inside Lady so she would not feel the things he’d do to her when he returned but she couldn’t. She was stronger than that. She would not be an empty vessel lying helpless and at his mercy. She would resist. She would fight, tooth and nail._

_“Jon!”_

_Was he dead? Why did he not come?_

_Hands grabbed her wrists and she cried out. He’d returned._

Flailing in the dark, she nearly took a tumble.

“ _Shhhh_ , sweet one. It’s a bad dream,” he murmured.

Her eyes opened to find him looking down at her, his grey eyes worried but reassuring. His touch was gentle. A nightmare, nothing but a bad dream. She gasped with a relief so enormous she thought she might drown from it.

She sobbed in her lover’s arms. It had felt so real.

“Was it something he did to you in the past?” Jon asked solemnly after she’d calmed down enough to tell him.

“Yes…and no. Part of it was Joffrey but part of it was something else maybe? At the end there, I don’t think it was Joffrey who was coming back for me.”

She shivered and let him pull her close. Was it just a dream or was it also a warning?

Sansa laid her head upon his bare chest, her fingers tracing his scars without consciously thinking about it. She drew strength from the sound of his heart thumping and the warmth of his arms around her as he pressed a kiss to her forehead and his rough but careful hands caressed her skin that no longer bore any bruises or marks.

She closed her eyes and started to drift. _A dream, just a dream,_ she told herself. She only partly believed it though.

 

* * *

 

 

  
Selmy entered the diner and took a seat on a free stool, patiently waiting his turn so Mya could fetch him a cup of coffee. Forty plus years on the job and he’d never had such a month as this. Murders and suicides and strange deaths, left and right. It was odd. Not the murder and suicide part exactly. Blackwater Bayou had its share of bad apples. Maybe more than most places even. And of course, desperate men or women might take their life any old time.

“Hey, Detective. How’re you?” Mya asked as she approached with his black coffee.

“I’m alright, Mya. Business is booming more than I care for.”

“Look at it as job security.”

It was callous perhaps but he couldn’t help grinning as he stirred in a packet of sugar and took a sip of his drink.

He prided himself on being thorough in his job so when he’d got the call to head over to the Baratheons last night, he’d been sure to take the measure of things. Nothing seemed out of place. Both of them acted as he’d expect, the wife distraught and her cousin concerned but not as emotional.

The house was spotless as it’d always been when he’d had a reason to call on Joffrey a time or two in the past. Sansa had some leftover fried chicken in the fridge and fetched him a plate despite his refusal.

 _“Just let ‘er, Detective,”_ Jon Snow had said quietly when she’d bustled over to the cabinets. _“She’s been beside herself since we got back from the store and found him missing.”_

Sure enough, there’d been a plastic bag with a few items in it sitting on the counter from the grocery store.

He’d gone upstairs to the couple’s bedroom and Sansa had shown him where Joffrey kept his gun. It was missing.

_Where’d you go?_

Sansa had shown him the prescription bottles for the pain medication Luwin had prescribed after the accident. There wasn’t anything unusual in the amount and there were still plenty left.

He’d briefly peered in the guest bedroom next door. Jon Snow wasn’t as neat as his cousin and it showed but there was nothing questionable to see.

His wife said he’d not hardly left the house since the accident except for his trip to his granddaddy and mama’s funerals which matched with everything he’d heard. Joffrey had been pretty much bed bound with such a bad break.

They’d looked all over town and asked for any folks who’d spied Joffrey Baratheon in the past 24 hours to come forward. No one had.

But while the town was small, the Bayou wasn’t. And if he’d done something rash, finding a body there would be like finding the needle in the proverbial haystack. Maybe Joffrey’s car would turn up. It was a shame it wasn’t his department vehicle. It’d have GPS on it.

He knew the rumors about Joffrey and his wife and the way he’d treated her. Hells, he’d seen a bruise or two on her himself. But she’d never come forward or asked to speak with him discreetly. Of course, he supposed it would’ve been awkward for her to even attempt it considering the circumstances. And, while he couldn’t completely blame a battered woman for wanting to take matters in her own hands, he couldn’t fathom a girl like Sansa doing that.

Her cousin was another matter but then again, the boy genuinely seemed concerned over Joffrey’s disappearance. And Sansa had told more than one person in the department how grateful she was to her cousin for helping out with Joffrey since his injury.

“Hello, Barristan.”

He turned to find Dr. Luwin behind him. “Hello, Doc. How you been?”

“I’m fine. Mind if I pull up a stool?”

The two older men spent the next fifteen minute yapping over a cup of coffee. Selmy liked Luwin. He was a good doctor and a good coroner, professional and efficient.

He eyed the brace around the doc’s wrist and a fading bruise on his temple. “What’d you do?”

“Oh, this? Ain’t nothing but an annoyance. Embarrassing really. I took a misstep and fell at home one night.”

There was something oddly familiar to the tale but he didn’t pay it much mind. If Luwin said he fell then that must be true.

“That tox screen ever come back on Lorch?” That would normally be the department’s business to handle but Preston was no whizbang and he’d often asked the white coats to just send it to the doc to interpret for them.

“Uh huh. BAC was .07%.”

Not enough to charge a man with driving under the influence but it could’ve definitely left him impaired enough to lose control while speeding and hit a tree.

“Interesting.”

“Y’all found Joffrey yet?”

“No. That boy just plumb vanished.” Luwin shook his head and Selmy recalled something that he’d been meaning to ask. “Sansa said her husband’s cast came off yesterday.” For just an instant, there was a look in Luwin’s eye that was hard to interpret. Selmy had been a cop a long time and something in that look made his gut instincts take note. “Would you happen to be able to confirm that for me? You were treating him, right?”

“Uh huh, sure was. I went round their house actually to do it.”

“You removed it at home? I thought house calls had gone the way of the dragons and giants."

Luwin chuckled and shook his head. “For some, I occasionally make exceptions. It was hard for him to get around in that thing.”

“What time would that’ve been?”

“Four. No, I tell a lie…” Selmy’s ears perked up. “Probably closer to 4:30.” His ears went on back to normal.

“Did he seem depressed to you?”

“Depressed? Not really. You know Joffrey. He was whining a lot but I didn’t much think of it as depression. But then again, who really knows a person deep down? The boy’s grandfather, mother and father all died within a short period of time. And then, learning about the scandal…”

Selmy nodded. Losing all his kin like that…bang, bang, bang. His wife would know though. Poor girl, she’d gone through it, hadn’t she? And now for it to happen to her husband.

And, Selmy couldn’t even imagine discovering your whole life was a lie and that the man you’d called your father wasn’t your daddy at all while your daddy was actually your uncle. It was like something out of a work of fiction.

He asked a few more questions but didn't learn anything out of the ordinary.  He paid for his coffee and left Mya her tip and bid Luwin good day. They’d keep looking for Joffrey but there was other work to do. He had a whole community to serve and protect and one missing deputy couldn’t take up all his time. Besides, the boy had always been a little shit anyway.

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Jon learn about a new connection they'll share as soul mates now that they are bonded and Ramsay attempts to do his father's bidding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Things get a bit gruesome in this chapter and the next and one of the good characters will meet an awful end in this one.

 

_Jon was pacing back and forth but Sansa paid him no mind at the moment. She was busy watching Maggy who was covertly admiring the new shoes on her feet. Sansa didn’t think her heart could feel any fuller than to know Maggy had been pleased by her gift. She wanted to do more but this was a start._

_She was sitting cross-legged on the ground outside the old woman’s home as the frogs croaked the night away. It was time to get back to the house but she was busy listening. Maggy had shared many revelations this night and at the moment, Sansa was trying to make sense of this latest turn in the conversation. Maggy might be on to something._

_“Nuh-uh. That can’t be true!” Jon swore._

_“It is true. Why you arguing with Old Maggy, boy?”_

_“‘Cause I ain’t never felt nothing before when she was hurting or scared! If what you’re saying is true, I would’ve known years ago to come to her! She’s been my soulmate all this time and now you’re trying to tell me I’ll magically know when something’s wrong?! Or that she’s gonna feel it when I’m hurt or in danger?!”_

_“I can’t say for certain. I ain’t got no soulmate. I’m just telling you what the lore says. And it ain’t perfect. But basically, yes…that’s the gist of it.”_

_“But I didn’t…”_

_“You didn’t feel it before because you weren’t bonded yet. Now, you are. Why you so upset?”_

_That was a good question. Why was Jon so bothered by this potential new connection? Was it because he was still holding onto his guilt over leaving in the first place? Or was he worried about something else? Sansa pondered that but would address it when they were alone._

_“I haven’t felt nothing like what you’re describing,” she said, finally adding her two bits to the discussion. She turned towards Jon. “What was it like for you the night of Mr. Tywin’s accident?”_

_“It wasn’t anything to write home about.” She gave him a sharp look which resulted in a sheepish shrug. “Alright, I won’t lie. The impact hurt like hell.”_

_“Well, I don’t know when you two bonded,” Maggy said as though that explained it._

_Sansa thought back to that night and what happened after she came home to find Jon bruised and battered. Had he been in any immediate danger or injured since then? No._

_“So, by bonded, do you mean, um…”_

_“Yes, girl, I mean fucking.” Jon snarled and Maggy cackled at him. “Alright then. Let’s say because you’ve engaged in intimate relations. Is that better, loverboy? But it’s more than just the sex, girl.”_

_“How so?”_

_“Did you speak words? Did you make promises or anything?”_

_She smiled and understood. “Yes, we did.”_

_“There you go. You were soulmates before but now you’re fully bonded. And you’re not only soulmates but of the wolf blood, too. It’s a powerful thing but frightening.”_

_Frightening?_

 

* * *

 

 

  
Twilight had fallen and Sansa was out back on the porch swing again. Jon wasn’t with her this time. He’d promised he’d do his best to be home before nightfall but it looked like he might’ve been delayed.

She recalled their conversation with Maggy from back before Robert had died and, since she wasn’t feeling anything to indicate her soulmate was in peril or injured, she told herself not to worry about him being late. So, why was there a creeping sense of something stirring in her tummy tonight? She shoved it aside and told herself to be sensible.

_He’ll be home soon and I can always reheat supper._

There was another worry eating at her, too. Maggy the Frog as some called her hadn’t been seen around town recently. They’d not seen her since the night Sansa had given her the shoes and they’d talked so long with her about some of the forgotten lore of the Children and the First Men.

Jon had gone to check on her this morning. Her make-shift home had still been there but it had been empty. He’d said the shoes Sansa had given her had been sitting beside her pallet in a shoebox with the words ‘Special Occasions’ scrawled across the top. They’d been sneakers. _Those were for whenever. I’ll give you dozens of pairs of shoes if you’ll let me._

 _“There might’ve been another raid,”_ Jon had suggested.

It was true the sheriff’s department went into the bayou’s homeless camps from time to time to ‘clean-up’ (which meant harassing them to leave when they had nowhere else to go or simply hauling them off to jail for a time). But Sansa hadn’t heard any word of a raid from Shae and she thought Jon might’ve been trying to convince himself as much as her.

 _We’ll check again tomorrow. Or in a day or two_ , she amended when she remembered what tomorrow night would bring.

Tonight, Jon had gone up to Howland’s for a little last minute battle planning. He’d also be checking on Joffrey.

Sansa had decided not to go along this time. She knew her role and didn’t have much to contribute to their plans.

She’d seen enough of her soon-to-be-dead first husband, too. She’d said what she’d wanted to say and she would be there at the end but at this point, she’d let Jon deal with Joffrey until they were ready to finish things.

The withdrawals were making his every breath a torment at the moment. Shackled and isolated in an abandoned hunter’s hut in the Reeds’ swamp, she’d seen his blackened leg and smelled the vile corruption oozing from his sores. She’d heard his agonized groans and the sounds of him gagging when Jon forced food down his throat. She’d lingered to watch Jon terrorize him as the wolf as well.

A cold smile crept to her lips at the memory. She did her best to remove it. It wasn’t right to enjoy his terror and pain to this extent but she did.

 _“Why are you letting him do this?”_ he’d whimpered last night when he’d seen her.

_“Why? I’d think you know why deep down, Joffrey, but I suppose you’ve always been lacking in self-awareness so I’ll tell you. I was a girl lost in her grief and alone who thought you handsome and charming. I just wanted to be loved and to have a family again. I wanted to believe I’d found something with you and it blinded me for a time._

_“I made so many excuses for the way you behaved at first. I was like a child playing ‘He loves me, He loves me not,’ except this version was ‘He loves me, He scares me, He loves me, He hurts me.’ You made me feel like it was all my fault and no one deserves to be treated like that._

_“Even when I began to see the truth, I hoped I might win your true affections in time. I tried to tell myself we could still make it work and I could still love you but you were never going be anything but what you are, were you?_

_“And once I tried to start pulling away, you tightened your grip. If you’d have let me go, I would’ve fled and never returned and you could still be living your comfortable little life down in the Bayou minus a wife. But you weren’t ever going to let me go._

_“You thought I was a dog you could kick around. You thought I was a servant you could belittle and degrade. You thought I was a plaything whose reason for existence was to fulfill your twisted pleasures. But that was never who I was meant to be and now you’ll know what it’s like to be the one who cowers and begs and wishes it was over. Now, you’re going to reap what you’ve sown.”_

It had felt good to get it all out. For as much as she’d like to burn those particular pages of her past, she would remember them, she would keep healing and she would know she had survived.

The authorities were still technically searching for Joffrey. Most assumed he’d run off in a fit of depression after everything though she knew that her and Jon were under a certain amount of suspicion. She looked forward to the day Joffrey’s body could be found and the authorities would consider the case closed. For now, they were the worried wife and concerned relative. Jon might not have had the same amount of practice when it came to playing a role but she was impressed with his performance all the same.

Tomorrow night, they’d act to regain their home. She hoped they were ready but delaying would only mean facing the werewolves at full strength. She did wonder what Detective Selmy might think when the Boltons suddenly disappeared and her and Jon moved home.

_We’ll get to that when it happens._

She reached out, seeking Lady as twilight became night. She had expected to find her with her pack up in the Hollow. She was wrong.

_The smell of rotting food was strong and the rock-like ground was rough on her paws. She didn’t like it here. Too many men, too exposed and too few places to hide. The noises and smells were all wrong. This was not where wolves belonged. But there was something in the wind, an old familiar danger that called her here. She would find the woman._

Sansa’s eyes returned to normal and her heart was racing. She was as panicked as the wolf had felt. Why was Lady in town? What had brought her here?

Sansa rose from her seat just as she heard the latch of the gate that led to the front yard lift. Her blood turned to ice-water as it creaked on its hinges and she was frozen in place, barely able to breathe.

“He ain’t here. I’d smell him,” a gruff voice said.

“Should be easy then.”

“We’ll sneak in the back door and take her.”

“Back to your daddy?”

“Yeah…but first we might have a little fun.”

Quiet laughter over that. Three men. How could she hope to escape? She was trembling all over. She felt like sinking down to her knees and crying. J _on, where are you?_

“If she puts up a fight, your daddy says we need her blood most of all.”

“I know what he said. I know what the witch said too but I’m in charge now.” Ramsay. It couldn’t be anyone else.

 _Hide. Hide and make ready_ , her instincts whispered.

The initial paralyzing fear started to abate as a different form of adrenaline kicked in. She moved back into the shadows of the porch, grateful she’d left the lights off in the kitchen before she’d come out here.

_Lady, Lady, Lady, is this why you came? Come to me. I need you. Old gods, give me courage this night._

Her nightmare came back to her. It had indeed been a warning and she knew what she had to do.

Once upon a time, she’d been a battered wife. Once upon a time, she’d curled up into a ball and prayed for his anger to end, for the pain to be over. No more.

_Fight, tooth and nail._

She would wait for her best chance to strike but never again would Sansa Stark just curl up in a ball and wish for it to be over. She heard a distant howl.

_Wolf girl._

 

* * *

 

 

  
_“All those not fighting will stay home and lock their doors and windows. We don’t need any innocents coming to harm inadvertently. Blood may be shed but no one’s calling 9-1-1. Blackwater Bayou’s Finest ain’t wanted ‘round here. This is Hollow business. Understood?”_ Several of the men nodded in agreement. _“We’ll have armed men paired off along the border of our lands. They’re to work their way inward and take down anyone who isn’t one of us. Howland, you’re watching over Sansa while she’s with the wolf. I don’t want her anywhere near.”_

_“Got it, Jon. Ain’t you worried they won’t come out though? Roose is awful cautious. All he’s gotta do is stay holed up indoors for another night to tip the odds in his favor.”_

_“You’re right but I’m just one wolf for all he knows and I’m awful good at picking a fight. I’m hoping Ramsay won’t be able to resist coming out at least.”_

_“That boy sure ain’t known for his patience,”_ Big Jon chuckled.

_“Nope. I’m counting on that.”_

He knew the people of Winter’s Hollow wanted rid of the Boltons but that they were putting their lives on the line for him and Sansa, he was more touched by that than he could say.

_But not just us, they do this for my uncles, for Robb and Aunt Cat and all the Starks who came before._

If he survived tomorrow night, he’d spend the rest of his life protecting them.

He’d met with the elders for the final time getting ready for the fight to come. Jyana had made a mess of frog legs which he’d politely declined since he knew Sansa was cooking. She’d fussed at him for not bringing her along. Right now, he’d like to kick his own ass for not bringing her.

_No. I’ll slit my own throat if something has happened to her._

He’d swung by to feed Joffrey but he’d lingered too long. _You wasted time baiting a dead man_.

He cursed himself. A howl of rage and anguish erupted from deep inside his chest as he tore off into the night. His powerful legs ate up the ground between them. His heart was pumping so hard he thought it might explode. And all the while, the panic was rising, rising, rising like flood waters until he felt like he would drown in it. He’d failed. He’d failed her.

 _You didn’t_ , her voice whispered in his ear. _I can fight, too. You showed me how._

He had but he would not be consoled until he laid eyes on her, until he knew she was alive and safe.

When he’d first felt the crippling fear, he’d understood about their bond and how deep it ran. Maggy had not been telling some tale. It wasn’t the crushing guilt from what had happened in the past that had bothered him so much as the fear of what that kind of connection might do to him. Sansa might not possess his physical strength but she was stronger than him in some ways. He’d always struggled with his temper and his emotions. And when they ran away on him, it left him feeling weak, broken and ashamed. His own deep feelings for her were overwhelming at times. So, the thought of feeling her pain or fear on top of that was enough to make him dizzy.

Terror coursed through him like a living thing. He’d had to pull the car over it’d hit with such intensity. His primal instincts took over and he’d shifted to race the rest of the way home to her as the wolf.

The Boltons were already going to die. They’d killed Uncle Benjen. They’d killed Uncle Ned and Aunt Cat. They’d conspired to kill Robb. That could never be forgiven. But until this night, Jon would’ve been alright with just seeing them dead. He hadn’t planned anything like he was planning with Joffrey. But if they’d hurt her, he’d eviscerate Roose, Ramsay and anyone who stood with them.

He could smell the blood as he reached the house. They were inside somewhere. He burst through the backdoor and heard her shriek.

Lady’s muzzle was drenched in blood as she worried at a dead man’s entrails on the white linoleum floor. He was half tempted to join her. A second man lay in the hallway, his throat a red ruin. And at the table sat Sansa retching into a bowl, her face streaked with tears.

He shifted and knelt before her, waiting for the vomiting to stop. “You hurt?” he asked as he tentatively touched her knee.

She shook her head but then held out her forearm. “A scratch. Am I…cursed?”

He could reassure her there at least. “Nah. A scratch ain’t a bite and our kind is immune from their sickness anyway.”

His rage still spiked at the sight of it though. Small as it was, it would leave a scar that would never fade. But when she lunged forward into his arms, he could only hold her tenderly as he struggled to compose some sort of apology for failing her.

“The blood, Jon. The taste and the…gods...” she shuddered.

“Yeah.” He held her tighter, turning her away from the sight. She was his sweet one and this had been her first kill. Such things were never easy. “It’s alright, my girl. They can’t hurt you. You did real good.”

She grimaced and pointed towards the backdoor. “Ramsay got away.”

“No matter. His time’s coming soon now.” _Piece by piece by piece._

“Jon…I don’t wanna do that again.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do. You’re not facing them alone.”

He kissed her brow. He couldn’t deny he’d need her and her wolves. _But after this is done, I don’t want her to have to fight again. Hells, I don’t want to fight again really_. “I wish there was a way for you to not see it.”

She straightened and wiped her eyes. “I’ll be alright. I’m sorry for getting all weepy and weak there.”

“Weak? Sansa Stark, you’re the exact opposite of weak and I won’t hear no more talk like that.”

A flash of a smile. He’d take it. “What’re we gonna do about this mess?”

“A lot of cleaning and I guess we’ll be ordering take-out for a bit.”

She rolled her eyes at his dumbass joke. He’d take that, too. “How’re we gonna hide this?”

“Don’t you worry none. I’ll deal with it. I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should never have left you alone here when…”

“We’re soulmates, not joined at the hip. You can’t be everywhere at once and I won’t hear no more talk like that,” she said stubbornly and it was him flashing a smile now.

“Alright.” He rose to inspect the bodies. “These two were at Mr. Tywin’s funeral.” Sansa hummed an agreement but she didn’t look. Jon could stand to look. It didn’t bother him one bit. He pulled back the collar and then the sleeve of the one in the hallway searching for something he hoped not to find. He found it anyway. “Shit.”

“What?”

“He’s got a bite mark.”

“A bite mark from Lady?”

“No, this mark ain’t from a wolf like Lady.”

She gasped when she realized what he meant. “You don’t seem very surprised.”

“I’m not.” He patted Lady on the head. She bared her teeth before returning to her meal. _You ain’t quite so sweet on me when I’m a man, huh? Or are you just jealous of your kill?_ “As much as I hate to say it, we’re lucky this happened.”

“Lucky?”

“Yeah, better to know and now two of them are dead. They would’ve been werewolves at the full moon and their strength with their first transformation would’ve been far greater than mine.”

“Oh.” Sansa’s brow was furrowed as she worked it out. “They weren’t the only men at the funeral with Ramsay.”

“No, they weren’t.”

“Well, that’s…shit.”

He snickered despite the situation. “Yeah.”

“Jon…”

She hugged herself and he hated seeing her fretting like this. He went back to sit beside her and held her close. “It’s alright, sweet one. Tomorrow night, we’re putting an end to it.”

He hoped they succeeded.

 

* * *

 

 

  
_“A naked man has few secrets but a flayed man’s got none…or woman in this case.”_

_The witch had been stronger or more stubborn than expected but no one could withstand it indefinitely. She’d lasted most of a day. Ramsay thought that was pretty impressive._

_“I ain’t sure it’ll work but it’s more hope than I’ve had in a while,” his father said._

_So many days, his daddy had knelt at the base of that old tree and made his offering of blood. It was the only payment the old gods knew. Some had come from people found trespassing on their lands but more often than not, it had been his daddy’s own blood. Seems like he ought to have realized sooner that not just any old blood would do for something like this._

_“The blood of the First Men and the Wolf blood. There’s a sort of poetry to it, isn’t there? It’s fitting that the very thing that gives the Starks their powers could be used to create something greater than them, don’t you think?”_

_Daddy liked rambling on and on. Ramsay needed to take a piss. He’d been too excited getting to work on the old woman and forgot to go earlier. “So, you’re saying I still need to fetch the girl?”_

_His father looked at him like he was stupid. He hated when his father looked at him like that. One day, he was going to give him that look at the wrong time._

_“Yes, I would like for you to fetch Sansa Stark.”_

_“Because you think Jon Snow won’t fight us if we have her?”_

_His father sighed. “That was the original plan but now, we need her for something else.”_

_“Right. For the spell?”_

_“Yes.” He sounded plum patronizing and Ramsay didn’t like that. His head was throbbing trying to puzzle all this shit out when he wasn’t geared up._

_“Is there going to be anyone else?”_

_“What?”_

_“Well, you said to fetch the Stark girl and then you said fetch this one instead. I fetched you this one and now you want the other again. You gonna tell me to fetch anyone else?” He just needed to know how many more people he was supposed to go get. He had other shit to do._

_His daddy chuckled and rubbed at his eyes. “I swear you’re the most laborious being to ever cross my path.”_

_Laborious? Well, he had worked hard to bring the old bitch here. “Thank you, Daddy.”_

_“It wasn’t a compliment, you fool. Now, go get Sansa Stark…a drop of her blood at the very least!”_

 

* * *

 

 

Ramsay gnawed at his hangnail and stared straight ahead as his father droned on. He hated being lectured. He hated the old man.

“You fool! I asked you to bring me one girl!”

“She’s not just a girl. She’s a warg. The house was dark and the wolf tore out Damon’s throat before we even knew what had happened.”

“A warg with a common wolf,” his father snorted derisively. “You and your boys were bested by one common wolf. Shameful.”

He could’ve pointed out that Damon and Grunt weren’t the brightest bulbs and none of them could transform until the full moon but he didn’t think that’d help his case any right now. He needed the old man to shut up. His yapping was making him twitchy. He needed to get high.

“I should’ve known but I honestly didn’t count on how fucking incompetent they could be,” his father added under his breath.

Oh, that was not courteous. His father kept making that mistake, speaking so discourteously about his own son. Why’d his daddy keep saying things like that? Didn’t he know?

“I got your drop of blood at least.”

His shirt had sucked up the droplet from where his nails had raked her arm as he’d tried to grab her. He supposed it’d work for the spell.

His father nodded wearily. “Well, thank fuck for that anyway. Bring me that kettle and we’ll see if that witch knew what she was talking about.”

They trekked out to the woods. Ramsay did his best to stand still while his father muttered a bunch of mumbo jumbo at the tree and tossed little bits of this and that in his kettle.

“Gimme your shirt.”

Ramsay took it off and handed it over before crossing his arms over his bare chest. His father proceeded to rip the sleeve off. “I liked that shirt.”

“Shut up.”

His daddy shouldn’t talk to him like that. That was a mistake. People couldn’t talk to Ramsay that way and that included his father.

“Should I call the others to us?”

“No. I don’t want any of them to be here for this. None of them will have this power. It’ll just be us.”

Ramsay nodded. That made sense. Ben and Alyn and the others couldn’t think they were their equals. It’d just be him and his daddy who could be powerful all the time. Two alphas.

 _No_ , a voice inside whispered. _There can only be one alpha._

Ramsay’s lips twisted into a smirk. That was the best thought he’d had in a while now. “Is it ready yet, daddy?”

“It’s got to set for a night and a day. We’ll drink it tomorrow at sunset. I suspect after your fuck up tonight, Jon Snow won’t let another day pass without coming for us.”

 _My fuck up? You sent me to get her. I brought you the blood_. “Tomorrow. We’ll be ready.”

“Let’s hope. And you better not go off and get high tonight or I swear to the gods I’ll rip your throat out!”

“You’ll rip my throat out?” That was funny. His father could barely climb out of bed during the new moon and he was threatening him? “ _You’ll_ rip _my_ throat out?! Oh, that’s a good one.”

His father’s pale eyes grew wary. He should be wary. _One mistake too many, old man. There can only be one alpha here._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you sticking with this story, thank you so much for your patience. I am working on finishing it and hope to have the rest posted over the next few days.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon seeks solace at the heart tree before picking a fight. Sansa decides where she wants to make her stand and it may save a life. Ramsay has a surprise for Jon. Joffrey goes for a drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were hoping for a different update, I'm sorry! I'm determined to finish this one. I'll return to my other WIPs and post some new stuff soon though. 
> 
> This is a lengthy chapter with some fighting and a couple of well-deserved deaths. One is gruesome but not too detailed while the other explores one of my personal phobias.

 

The breeze kicked up and the autumn leaves scuttered along the ground at his feet. Jon inhaled deeply, letting the crisp evening air fill his lungs with oxygen as the strength he drew from this place filled him with grim purpose. He repeated the words he’d been taught as a boy under his breath.

“Protect the pack. Defend our lands. Pray to the gods. Keep our secret.”

The blood red leaves were clinging to their branches just as they did the whole year round. He bowed his head seeking solace as he knelt by the heart tree, one hand brushing the pale bark.

_I’m trying, Uncle Ned. I am. I don’t know how well I’m doing and I know I’m doing things that are wrong, things that would disappoint you but…I don’t know how else to do this. I was never gonna be as good as you or Uncle Benjen. I was never gonna be Robb. I’m sorry if I’ve let you down but I swear to you, if I survive this night, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to do what’s right by her and by these people and maybe make you proud of me someday._

He wished he wasn’t alone out here tonight, a lone wolf missing his pack. All those times as a boy out in these woods with his uncles and his cousin, why’d he take it all for granted back then? But, before he could stand, he would swear he heard a voice answering his silent oath.

_“You may make mistakes but remember what we teach you and just do your best. That’s all I can ever ask of you.”_

Tears filled his eyes as those words from years ago fell soft as snowflakes from the leaves above. _You were trying to tell me then, weren’t you?_ He could picture his uncle’s face as clear as day. He could hear him, his voice that could be gentle as a summer breeze upon occasion. He felt the warmth of a hand that wasn’t there on his shoulder.

_“This is not our way, Jon…but you returned to her when she needed you most. You remembered our laws and came home. You’re a Stark, no matter your last name. That’s the only absolution I can give you.”_

And with those words echoing around him, Jon Snow decided to let go of the heavy guilt he’d been carrying for good. The stars seemed brighter as he walked out of the woods to join the others. It had been worth the risk to visit the tree and remember his uncle’s words that had always been there in his heart.

He found Jon Umber and his son waiting for him with their rifles. “We doin’ this tonight, boy?”

“We sure are.”

 

* * *

 

 

  
“This here is good, I think, Mr. Reed.”

He pulled to the side of the road and looked around. “I told you to call me Howland, girl.”

“Alright then. Thank you for bringing me here, Howland.”

He didn’t look very pleased by her courtesy. “Jon said to keep you back at my place.”

“I know what he said but I think this makes more sense.” Sansa gazed out the passenger window as another vehicle zipped along the highway. Then, she turned her eyes towards their lands. She remembered the first time Jon had led her here after his return, how he’d knelt and prayed and she had, too. _This is where I mean to make my stand_. “We’re close but not too close. It makes sense for us to have some idea what’s happening.”

“You’ll know, won’t you?”

She climbed out of the truck, forcing Howland to follow her to the edge of the woods. “You won’t know if you’re sitting at home. When I’m with Lady I can’t communicate things to you.”

“True.”

“I’m back pretty far from where the fighting should happen.”

He appeared to be mulling that over but she believed she’d gained her point. Howland had accepted his role as her protector and took it seriously but she also knew it rankled some that he was being kept back from the fighting because of it.

Jon had wanted them to remain safe inside at the Reeds’ home but she couldn’t stand being so far from their lands with what tonight might bring. What if something happened to Jon? She needed to be close enough that she could reach him if…

She couldn’t finish that thought.

 _He’ll be alright_. We all will, she told herself. _Only ones dying tonight are would-be werewolves and their masters._

She crossed the invisible barrier that brought her onto their land. Where once she might not have even realized it, she felt it in her bones now. The land was part of her. She belonged to it and it belonged to her. She gazed up at the stars above. She’d only had the one lesson in astronomy but she knew where she was. The house she’d grown up in was two miles to the Northeast of here. _Far enough._

She sat down beneath a tall sentinel, not minding the needles at its base that were poking her through the denim of her jeans. Tonight, she’d be in her wolf. Tonight, she’d play a role in regaining some of what they had lost.

Just like the night she’d brought her book to work and then received a phone call that had sent her racing to the old Weirwood down by the bayou to make her plea, something told her that this was a good place to be. The gods had a purpose for her here. And if she was wrong, she was probably in no more danger here than at Howland’s. If things didn’t go their way, she’d never be safe in Winter’s Hollow again.

Sansa breathed in the autumn night air and closed her eyes. She thought of her mama and all she’d taught her. She thought of all the things she wished she’d got to learn from her that she never would. She thought of Jon’s mama, her Aunt Lyanna, who had died too young, someone she could’ve shared this gift with. She thought of her granny and all the Stark women who’d come before and told herself they were with her in this fight.

_Lady, my girl, where are you? Where are your friends? Tonight, there’s work to be done._

A flare shot off in the distance, the signal that Jon was going to make his move. Howland turned to tell her it was time.

Sansa was already with her wolf.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jon cupped his hands together and called out again. _“Arrrr-oooo! ARRRR-OOOOOOO!!_ Anybody home in there? Y’all busy having one big circle jerk or is someone gonna come out and chat with me?”

Eyes were peeping out the windows from behind the lacy curtains Aunt Cat had made.

“What’cha want, bastard?” one bold voice called.

“What do I want? Just what’s mine, that’s all,” he shrugged. There were a few nervous chuckles at that. He scanned the faces and realized who’d spoken. “Is that you, Ben Bones?”

“Sure is.” The man stood square in the window now, his chin held high and a rifle in his hands.

“Well, shit the bed. Ben Bones. I remember you. I remember what a good shot you were with that rifle of yours. You won the annual stag hunt trophy three years in a row when I was a boy, right?”

“That’s right,” he answered with no small amount of pride.

“Lot of years have passed. You still a dead-eye?”

“I do alright.” His tone was smug.

“I remember wanting to be as good a shot as you someday.”

“Well, I’m afraid I won’t be the one to teach you, boy.”

“Oh, that’s alright. I wouldn’t wanna learn nothing from anyone who spends their time wiping Ramsay’s nasty ass anyway.”

The smug face morphed to one of fury. “You’re a dead man, bastard!”

“I’ve already been a dead man but it didn’t take.” _Let ‘em chew on that_. “I seen a lot of dead men, too. I see a whole bunch of them looking at me right now.”

“Yeah…sure you do.”

“If y’all are so confident, why don’t you come on out?” He raised his hands to the side before drawing them into his chest. “It’s just me and I’m right here, all by my lonesome.” Nothing. None of them made a move. “Rather stay in, huh? I get it, I do. It’s safe inside, right? I thought there might be a big bad wolf in there somewhere but I guess y’all just a bunch of rabbits.”

His keen ears heard the click and his eyes were sharp. Ben Bones wasn’t as quick as he once was. He dove back behind his tree and hooted when the dirt kicked up five feet away.

“You missed!” he taunted. “Won’t be winning no more trophies like that!”

“Fuck you!”

“Rabbits ain’t no good with a gun. Or are you a bunch a squirrels in there maybe? You can hold onto to each other’s nuts and wait for the wolf to leave, I reckon.”

“Shut up!” some other man shouted.

“Who dat? Another wascally wabbit? Fuck you. Where’s Ramsay? He as big a coward as you boys?”

The front door opened and he heard the familiar creak of the storm door. A rush of childhood memories zipped before his eyes. _That’s our place_.

“I’m here, bastard.” His voice was raspy, his eyes wild looking even in the shadows of the front porch.

Jon smiled. “Hey there, Ramsay. It’s been a little minute, ain’t it?”

“Sure has.”

“Think your daddy will let you come out to play?”

“I don’t need my daddy’s permission.”

“Sure, you don’t. Better ask anyhow.”

“I’m afraid I can’t ask him nothing no more.”

Jon nodded. “Uncle Ned always said you were a crazy son of a bitch. You killed Domeric so why not your daddy? Cursed and damned as a kinslayer on top of a vile abomination, huh?”

“Oh, I’m an abomination alright but no crazier than that shit-house rat daddy of yours was."  Jon scoffed at the bait.  _He'll have to try harder than that._   "Where’s your warg bitch?”

For just a blink, Jon felt the anger swelling up at those words but he quickly laid it aside. He could say all kinds of things about Sansa but he wouldn’t ever touch her again. “That ain’t no way to speak of a lady.”

“Maybe not.” Ramsay took the first step off the porch and Jon tensed. He knew the others would be taking aim but the wolf was strong and fast and Ramsay was just a man. “So, is it supposed to be me and you then?”

“That’s what I was hoping but it looks like it’s me and you and all your boys back there.”

“Nah, they won’t do nothing. I’ve been looking forward to killing another one of your kind for a while now. I wonder if you’ll put up more of a fight than your uncle did. ‘Course he was injured from the wreck but I’d expected more out of him with the way my daddy was always telling us tales when I was a boy, like he was some kind of a legend. He barely made a squawk when my daddy broke his neck.”

Wrath enveloped him but Jon breathed deep to maintain control. He would not be letting his temper guide him into a mistake here.

“Yeah, I suppose it would’ve been your daddy who had the balls to kill Uncle Ned. Not sure you’ve got it in you.”

“I was busy finishing your aunt.” A cold, cruel smile.

_Breathe. Focus._

“Of course, there wasn’t much sport in that. But your cousin gave me a good fight last night. I’m looking forward to tangling with her again. I can think of all kinds of ways I’d like tangling with her. I always like it when a girl has some fight in her.”

_Don’t…_

“Hells, I was surprised that old bog witch had as much fight in her as she did when I skinned her.”

There was a ringing in Jon’s ears and a growl was building in his chest. Piece by piece by piece. “You killed Old Maggy, huh?”

“Yep. But not before she told us some things.”

“Like what?”

“I’ll show you.”

Ramsay looked up at the moon before unleashing a fearsome howl of his own. And before Jon’s eyes, he began to change, growing taller and broader even has he went from standing straight to stooped. His fingers elongated and his teeth became fangs. Ramsay screamed as the transformation continued and Jon watched, not quite able to believe his eyes.

_Oh, shit._

 

* * *

 

 

  
They’d called him Big Walder since the day his cousin Little Walder was born fifty-two days after him. Big Walder and Little Walder. It’d been dumb when they were kids. It was down-right ridiculous now considering Little Walder was a hulking great boy of seventeen while he was a foot shorter and skinny as a beanpole.

They’d been named after their granddaddy with hopes of currying his favor amongst his extensive brood. But everybody in the family seemed to think the best way to curry Walder Frey’s favor was to name a kid after him and the old fart hadn’t ever seemed to give a shit about none of them anyway.

He’d kicked the bucket last year after choking on a piece of gristle. At the time, Big Walder had thought there couldn’t be any worse way to go. He knew different now.

Being part of Ramsay’s little gang wasn’t something he’d planned. Him and his cousin had migrated up to the Hollow last year after dropping out of school to find some work. A lot of the folks up here weren’t all that welcoming of them but they’d been doing alright. They’d got them a little place and had been working at the mill under Mr. Tallheart. But both of them liked getting high and that’s how they’d lost their jobs and got mixed up with Ramsay.

He’d given them freebies at first and then charged them just a little as their tastes had expanded. And now, they owed him more than either of them could hope to earn in five years working at the mill even if they’d still had jobs there.

So, Ramsay had made them a deal to come work for him. Mostly, they were servants to the Boltons but sometimes there was other work to do. It wasn’t the kind of work Big Walder had ever pictured doing but he was too intimidated by Ramsay to say anything.

But even cowards can possess morals and reach a breaking point when they can no longer look the other way. Big Walder’s breaking point was Maggy the Frog.

Life is full of bitter little ironies. He’d made fun of the homeless woman as a boy down in the Bayou with her ugly face and smelly clothes. He’d laughed at her batshit crazy talk and nodded self-righteously along with his elders when they’d groused about how the sheriff’s department should get off their asses and run the riff-raff out of town for good.

But what Ramsay had done yesterday to her and what Mr. Roose had sat and watched, Big Walder didn’t think he’d ever get over it. And to top all that, when Mr. Roose and Ramsay had returned from the woods late last night, Ramsay had stuck a knife in his own father’s belly in front of everyone.

The old man had gasped and wheezed and cursed him before collapsing in a heap, the blood staining the floor as Ramsay calmly cleaned his knife. He’d be the one to clean it up, just as Ramsay had made him clean up earlier.

One minute of stunned silence had followed and then Little Walder had laughed. His cousin was about as twisted as Ramsay these days. Everyone’s eyes had flitted between him and Ramsay and, when Ramsay had started laughing with him, everyone else had, too. Big Walder had laughed along with them because if he hadn’t, he might’ve been next. But as soon as he saw his chance, he’d taken off.

There was stitch forming in his side. He’d not run so hard or so far since gym class years ago. He wasn’t even sure where he was going. The woods were dark and deep. A wolf howled in the distance. Was that Ramsay? Had his daddy’s spell worked? Would he chase him down and eat him up?

He could hear the faint sound of the highway though. It wasn’t far. He was sobbing as he started running again. Traffic would be light but maybe someone would stop for him. Maybe he could find his way to town and call for help. Maybe someone would take him back down to his mama’s house and maybe Ramsay would forget he existed.

“Please, please, please. Get me away from here. Please, get me away from him.”

He saw a grey shadow racing through the night beside him. What was that? Some wild critter? Or the wolf coming for him?

He turned slightly to change course. The highway sounded closer this direction.

_Almost, almost. Please, gods._

He burst through a clump of bushes and yelped as an older man, shorter than him even, grabbed him by the throat. He was holding a knife.

“Whatcha doin’, boy? Who are you?”

Big Walder started flapping his gums but no sound was coming out. Who was this man and what was he doing here so close to the highway? Was he gonna kill him? Had he got this close to getting away only to be killed by a stranger?

_Better than Ramsay._

“Howland,” a woman’s voice said. “Let him go.”

They both turned and Big Walder saw a beautiful young woman with red hair and blue eyes sitting upon the ground. He’d never seen her but he’d heard about her after Ramsay had come home alone last night.

“You’re the wolf girl,” he babbled and the knife at his throat bit a little deeper into his flesh. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

“Howland, let him go.”

“He’s one of them Frey miscreants. Probably been bit.”

“I ain’t! Ramsay didn’t bite me! Said I was too little to be good for anything but cleaning up messes and fetching supper!”

“Howland, please.” This time the old man did as she said. “Who are you?”

“I’m Big Walder, ma’am.” She looked like she had to bite back a laugh at that. It was pretty stupid. “I’m Walder Frey.”

“Hmm. Why you out here running in the woods at night, Walder?”

“Because I’m…” Another long howl and Walder felt like pissing his pants. “You won’t never believe me.”

“Try me…but make it fast, Walder.”

 

* * *

 

 

  
_“Walk to the payphone out by the service station.”_

_“That’ll take an hour or more to get there from here.”_

_“That’s alright. Make your call. Don’t give your name and only tell about what Ramsay did, nothing else about tonight.”_

_“Then what’ll I do, ma’am?”_

_“Walk home, I reckon. Go back to the Bayou and back to your mama. Go back to school. It’s better than staying here, right?”_

Walder had nodded. _“Anywhere’s better than being with them.”_

She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream in horror and in fury. Poor Maggy. It was so damned unfair.

The emotions could carry her away though if she let them and Jon was in danger. She could feel it, just like Maggy had said. She joined Lady and her pack. Jon needed her and she wouldn’t let him down.

The sounds of the highway faded and her eyes rolled back again.

 

_Racing through the woods, they covered the ground as quick as they could, drawn toward the sounds of fighting and the smell of blood. Men with their deadly metal sticks were closing in on all sides, drawing together like a net. But they were not the enemy this night. They shared a common goal. They were all here to see the old enemy defeated._

_She snarled as she broke through the underbrush to find the white wolf rolling on the ground with a monstrosity. This was a job for the pack._

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jon had to admit he was stronger than him, much stronger. There was something unnatural about his size and strength even for a werewolf. What black magic was this? They’d tortured Maggy and learned the secret of how to change without the full moon. The nightmare his uncles had shared with him long ago had come to life. Would he ever return to being just a man? And what would become of this land and their people if he didn’t?

He had to be stopped but Jon feared he might be outmatched in this fight. The wolf was as mortal as the man and he was already wounded. Weariness settled over his bones like a heavy, wet blanket but he could not lie down. Lying down would mean death.

There was blood running into his eyes and he shook his great head, trying to clear his vision as the thing came for him again.

The men were hanging back, watching their master fight the shapeshifter but Jon knew they could open fire at any time. It was safer to be engaged in battle with the werewolf than standing off to the side to be someone’s easy pickings.

He got a hold of the creature’s back leg and tore at the muscle there, taking satisfaction in its cry of rage and pain. No sooner than he’d managed that, it broke free and it was him yelping in agony as the beast clawed at his belly. He rolled swiftly but his opponent was too fast for him to get back on his feet before he plowed into him again, knocking him into the dirt and the wind out of him.

The thing with Ramsay’s queer pale eyes circled him, licking the blood off his own snout and enjoying his prey’s helplessness.

Jon closed his eyes, willing himself to rise one more time. He could not muster the strength.

_I don’t wanna die. I don’t wanna fail her._

Just the thought of her was enough, enough to pull his aching body off the ground. He could not give up as long as he was breathing. And once he was up, he found he was no longer alone in his fight. Lady and the others had joined him. They were a pack and he was a part of it tonight.

Together they circled the larger, more ferocious beast. _Piece by piece by piece_.

Behind the wolves, men began to appear out of the woods. Gun fire erupted, disturbing the autumn night. The cries of wolves and men were all he could hear as he dove back into the fray.

 

* * *

 

 

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” Shae answered.

“You need to send someone up to the Bolton place in Winter’s Hollow!”

“What’s the nature of your emergency, sir?”

“Huh?”

“Is it medical or do you need the fire department or police?”

“Oh, uh…police! I need the police! He killed her and then killed his daddy!”

Her scalp was tingling as she began typing. So much blood lately. The call was coming from a pay phone. “Who killed who?”

“Ramsay Bolton! He skinned the old woman and then killed his daddy! He’s killed lots of other folks, too!”

“What’s your name, sir?”

The line went dead and Shae shook her head. Blackwater was going to be the murder capital of the country at this rate.

She switched over to dispatch. “Bandy? Who’s available to check out a possible 187 up in the Hollow?”

“Selmy and Preston just clocked in. Want me to send them?”

“Yeah, might as well.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jon’s eyes opened slowly. The stars weren’t out anymore. The wind was blowing. He was naked under a blanket. He hurt all over. The ground beneath him shook and he startled.

“Shush, it’s alright.”

He grasped for her hand, so relieved to hear her voice. “What…”

“Howland’s taking us back to his place to patch you up.”

He recognized the sensation now. He was stretched out in the bed of a truck as they sped down the road. “I can’t see.”

“It’s just the bandages. Howland says head wounds bleed something awful but it’s your other injuries I’m worried over.”

He felt her hands on his face and suddenly the stars were back. Better, he could see her. She was frowning at him.

“Did I get uglier?”

“No, some scratches is all.”

“They’ll scar.”

“They may heal with time.”

“I’ve got some cracked ribs and my shoulder’s chewed up but nothing I can’t handle.”

“I’m most concerned about these.” She delicately touched his stomach and he grimaced with pain.

“I heal pretty quick.” He wanted to be brave for her but maybe he didn’t have to be. “Are you feeling it? My pain?” She nodded. “I’m sorry for that. I hope you can feel my joy over seeing you by my side instead.”

He was rewarded with a gentle smile. “It don’t hurt so much as it did. I just want you better.”

“Howland knows healing craft.” His uncles had told him that more than once.

“So did she.” Her face crumpled and he tugged at her hand. Sansa laid down beside him on the hard surface. She tucked herself up against him, crying softly. It was a comfort despite the pain of their loss.

If it hadn’t been for Maggy, Sansa would never have received that book, never would’ve cast her spell and called him to her. She might’ve died at Joffrey’s hands some day and he’d have stayed dead up at Castle Black. If it hadn’t been for Maggy, they might never have found each other again.

“Jon, I don’t want to live in that house again after what he did to her there. All my good memories of it will be tainted by the blood and haunted by the ghosts of our dead. I’d rather remember it as it was when we were kids but start fresh.”

He sighed but would not argue. All this work to win it back but it would never be the same. Too much blood, too many losses. Some hurts run too deep to heal with a coat of paint.

They had each other though and they could build something together that was theirs and still honor their loved ones. They’d have their lands back. It would be enough, he decided.

“Alright. Benjen’s place will be big enough for me and you until we can build us a new house.”

“I’d like that.”

Her tears had dried but he kept her close. They’d be at Howland’s soon. He could tell by the stars above. “Sansa…I wouldn’t have survived tonight without you. You saved my life.”

“That was Lady and her wolves.”

“Don’t be stubborn. It was also you, my brave girl.”

She raised her head up to kiss him. “I didn’t like the fighting but I’m glad I could be there for you.”

“I hope you don’t have to do no more fighting.”

“I don’t plan on it but we’ll see.”

“Lady and her pack?”

“Licking some wounds but alive.”

“Good. What of the others?”

“All of Ramsay’s men are dead. A couple of ours were shot but thankfully none were killed. Maege is taking them to Luwin. He’ll keep his mouth closed.”

There were sirens wailing in the distance. “What’s Selmy gonna find when he arrives?”

“Just two dead bodies; Roose and Maggy. I guess Detective Selmy will have to put an APB out for Ramsay Bolton and his accomplices.”

The monster. What had they done with him? “Where is Ramsay, sweet one?”

Her lips twisted into a smirk.

 

* * *

 

 

The moon was well past full. This was the first time he’d been outside in days. The sores stood out in the moonlight.

He’d not seen Jon lately. Sansa had brought his food once but not said a word to him. Some old man had come the last two days. He hadn’t said nothing to him either. It was like he was already dead in the eyes of everyone but Jon.

He’d decided to stop eating. He’d rather die than keep hurting. The good shit was just a memory now and his leg was swelled up, black and nasty. Jon had hinted it might need to come off the night they’d cracked open the cast. Joffrey had screamed and wept at the sight and the thought of that.

 _“It'd be no more than you deserve,”_ Jon had whispered in his ear.

But dying of starvation takes more than a couple of day and the hunger pains were hard to ignore. He’d pretended it wasn’t him who’d choked down that food last night.

Just when he’d started to wonder if Jon had died, he’d come striding into the shack tonight, as strong and whole-looking as ever. There was a cut above his eye but it was healing. Joffrey had started shaking all over. He was back. The wolf was back.

 _“Come on, Joffrey. We’re getting you out of here,”_ he’d said.

_“Out of here?”_

_“Yeah.”_

Did he dare hope they were going to let him go?

He knew better than that by now. They were going to make him watch his worst nightmare play out before him.

The naked man had been gagged and staked to the ground, spread-eagle. He was crusted with dried blood. His eyes screamed with rage but also misery. There was something misshapen about his body. It looked all shrunken up and his flesh was greyish. _He looks worse than me…sort of_. Once upon of time, he’d have found that funny. Now, he was just fretting about what Jon had in store for him.

Sansa had been standing at the edge of the swamp when they drove up but she’d since left. Then, the wolves had come. There were four of them. They were going to eat him up, piece by piece.

“This might’ve been you,” Jon breathed in his ear after he’d bound him to a plain wooden chair. “It would’ve been. We’d have had us a hunt. But, you just get to watch this instead.”

To the staked man, he spoke next.

“I guess that spell of yours turned out to be a one-time thing, huh? The full moon’s gone and you’re just a man again. Actually, you’re a bit less than that. Looks like Maggy left out an important tidbit or two despite what y’all did to her. That’s why we should always do our homework, Ramsay, but as I recall, you never were much for the books, were you?”

The wolves began to growl as one, eager for their meal. Jon became the white wolf. One of the wolves, a grey one, sat back as the other four stalked towards the bound man.

Joffrey shook and rocked in his seat. He wept and his pants grew wet but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away. He watched the gruesome scene unfold in utter horror, helpless to do anything.

He was going to be next. They’d finish with that guy and come for him. He knew it.

Turned out, he was wrong.

Joffrey grasped the wheel as Jon closed the driver’s door, trying to remember the last time he’d driven a car. It’d been the afternoon Jon had come to stay when he’d taken Sansa to work and warned her to keep her mouth shut to her cousin. That seemed like years ago.

“Say hello to Trant for me,” Jon told him as he gave the car a mighty shove towards the swamp.

The windows were rolled down. His heart was hammering away. He was paralyzed by the fear. He could unbuckle the seatbelt. Even with his bad leg, he might be able to climb out and make it to shore.

But if he did, he’d be torn apart and devoured by the wolves like that other man had been. Jon had promised and Jon didn’t tell him lies. This was easier. Drowning in the black waters of the bayou would be a relief by comparison, he decided.

The car seemed to float for a handful of seconds after it splashed through the reeds before it began to sink. The water came puddling up through the floorboards and then rushing through the open windows.

Panic set in and he fumbled with the belt but his scattered wits didn’t know how to work it anymore. He glanced over his shoulder to see Jon standing on the water’s edge, watching and waiting.

The water was rising. He swallowed a mouthful of the stagnant water. It was foul and unclean. He screamed and gagged but no one would come get him.

He cast one last glance to the shore. Sansa stood there next to Jon, her head on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

Joffrey stopped trying to hold his breath. He gulped down the water like air now. It was sweeter than any wine.

 

* * *

 

 

Barristan Selmy twisted his hat between his hands as the doorbell chimed. His guts were clenched up just like they always were when he had to pay this sort of call on anyone.

_As if things haven’t been crazy enough lately._

Old Maggy and Roose Bolton murdered by that boy of his. Ramsay nowhere to be found. They’d found their anonymous caller though. The poor boy had cried and shook like a leaf throughout their questioning. Some of what he said didn’t make any sense. Werewolves and spells? Some said he liked the wacky backy awful well. But, he’d told them what all Ramsay had been up to lately and the things he’d done. _If only we can catch him one of these days_.

And then, Howland Reed, who Selmy hadn’t thought of in years, had called him up and said he’d found something fishy when he’d gone out frogging in his swamp.

_“Pardon the pun, Detective.”_

Sansa opened the door and chewed at her bottom lip when she saw him, her pretty face a mixture of hope and dread. “Have you found something, Detective?” she asked in a tremulous voice.

“I’m afraid so, Sansa.”

He led her indoors and closed the door behind him. He wouldn’t tell her the state of her husband’s body. The car had been in the water for days. It was hard to say how many, maybe since the night he’d left home. The fish and lizard lions had made a feast of its driver. He’d waited for Luwin to confirm the dental records for the sake of being thorough.

Jon Snow came downstairs when she started sobbing, pulling his cousin into his arms and thanking Selmy for his diligence as his own voice shook. Selmy looked around, not sure what else to say but not sure it was proper to leave yet. All the losses these poor kids had endured, he wasn’t sure Joffrey was much of a loss. Maybe someday Sansa would realize it.

The detective in him had questions but somehow he couldn’t seem to voice them. He couldn’t seem to work up the urge to ask but one.

“Y’all gonna move back up to the Hollow, I hear?"

“Yes, sir. We figured maybe that’d be…well, it’ll always be home to us,” Jon answered.

He nodded. The folks of Winter’s Hollow were a tight-knit community, suspicious of outsiders but loyal to their own. They’d be welcomed there as they moved on with their lives.

Among the papers sitting in Tywin Lannister’s safe, the probate folks had found something interesting. Sansa Stark had been a minor without adequate legal representation and no state-appointed guardian present when she’d signed over the deed to her parents’ lands. Tywin had paid hush-money to the town clerk but he was meticulous to a fault with his record-keeping. Perhaps he didn’t expect anyone to ever hold him accountable for anything.

The man who had purchased those lands was dead. On top of her husband’s share of his granddaddy’s estate which she would now inherit, she had a good case for getting her lands back.

And who would bar her from it?

A dead Lannister, dead Baratheons and a dead Bolton? None of them would be saying boo about it.

Yes, there was a trail of bodies that led back to the Stark girl and her cousin in some form or fashion but there was nothing firm, nothing even damning really that Selmy could point to.

Ramsay had killed his daddy and was on the lamb. Tywin had died in a car accident. Cersei had been killed by Robert. Someone had killed Robert but it seemed to be the work of a professional and many in town, including Selmy, believed Jaime Lannister might’ve hired someone to avenge his dead sister/lover. There was no proof though.

Sure, there’d been plenty of strange things going on the past two moons around the Bayou. Two no-account sheriff’s deputies, one killed by a wild animal and one who’d simply disappeared, and a former deputy who’d owed the wrong people money decapitated but Selmy couldn’t tie that to anyone in particular. The school superintendent/pedophile Petyr Baelish had committed suicide and Doc Pycelle, that old pervert, had died of a heart attack regardless of the beast the whore had seen in his bedroom. All of it odd but nothing concrete.

Then, there was Joffrey Baratheon who’d turned up behind the wheel of his personal vehicle in the bayou after suffering some tragic losses and struggling with depression. That didn’t mean his wife or her cousin were involved, did it?

Would Blackwater Bayou ever know? Would they even care?

_Maybe things will settle down at last._

Maybe a new sheriff could being the status quo back…or not. Some folks had suggested he throw his hat in the ring. Maybe he could bring some positive changes to his department.

When he left them, Selmy drove back to the station and took out the missing person report on Joffrey Baratheon. He sat it on his desk next to the older cold case that he’d been looking over the other night, the one that still ate at him: Robb Stark’s murder.

He opened his drawer, putting Robb Stark’s case back where he kept it. He pulled out the rubber stamp and inked it before bringing it down with a satisfying finality on Joffrey’s file. Case closed always had a nice ring to it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's only one left which will pick up with some of the aftermath of the fighting (including a little more info of what happened with Ramsay) before heading into the epilogue. 
> 
> I want to give a huge thanks to my faithful commenters! You guys help my WIPs become completed works :D


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath and the epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Jen (@sansaswildlinglover) for the gorgeous pic set!!

[ ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F16277432%2Fchapters%2F38065421&t=MjUzMzk0MzZiNDA3Mjc3NmM1ODZjYTRkYWNmNGIxNmY0MmM3NzU2NCwxODUyMjUwOTAxMDU%3D&b=t%3AXbi1gL380m1HcnrgBzW4nw&p=https%3A%2F%2Fvivilove-jonsa.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F185225090105%2Fqueenalysansa-follow-me-into-black-water-by&m=1)

 

 

Jon’s ability to heal combined with Howland’s knowledge saved his life after he’d taken the brunt of Ramsay’s attack that night. With the other wolves and soon the men of the Hollow helping him, they had managed to incapacitate and restrain the werewolf but not before Jon had lost consciousness from his injuries.

Sansa was frantic in the truck next to Howland on the way to him as soon as the fighting was done. She’d seen all his wounds. She’d smelled his blood through Lady. She could feel his fear and his pain.

The others were milling around uncertainly when she arrived. Once she’d checked Jon over and Howland had taken charge of him, she looked at the bodies of dead men lying outside her parents’ house and started issuing orders. Just like the night before in the kitchen, there was a mess to clean up and time was of the essence. She’d once heard that time both sped up and slowed down in the thick of a fight. She’d never understood it until tonight. Not that much time had elapsed since the fighting had started but she realized it wouldn’t take Big Walder forever to reach that pay phone.

Jon would say, _“This is Hollow business,”_ and he’d be right. Their secret and those who had helped would be protected.

Maege Mormont was the only other woman present and nearly everyone was older than Sansa. They did everything she said all the same.

“Looks like you take after your daddy, girl,” Maege chuckled.

“How so?”

“You’re a leader like he was.”

“No, I’m just…”

“In charge of this rabble is what you are. What we doing next?”

Maege tromped off to see to loading bodies in the back of Umber’s pick-up. He said he had a good place to make them all disappear by his quarry.

And, Sansa was more pleased by her words than she’d thought possible. All those times Cersei, Joffrey, Mr. Baelish or anyone had made her feel stupid or worthless, they’d been wrong about her.

_I’m not stupid. I’m not nothing. I never was. I was always worth more than you gave me credit for and not because I’m a warg but because of who I am. I’m Sansa Stark. This is my home and these are my people._

Ramsay was a horrid sight. He looked every inch the monster that he’d always been on the inside. And for one of the few times in her life, Sansa hoped another person’s suffering was unbearable.

She wasn’t sure exactly how they should proceed with him. If he remained the werewolf, he’d be too strong to keep bound indefinitely. But when the moon faded with the morning light, his powers appeared weaker. He grew weaker with the rising sun and smaller, too.

Sansa looked through the book Maggy had given her and her granny’s journal. She only found one small section regarding changing skins through unnatural means in ‘Spells and Practices of the Old Gods’ but it gave her hope.

_“Spells cast in darkness with evil intent can be the most powerful at their inception but often fade quicker than others. And one wrong ingredient will leave the would-be skin changer forever diminished once the spell fades. Most spells are fickle that way for the gods are jealous of their works and men were never meant to weave magic for their own purposes. Only spells cast in selfless acts of love or with the desire to protect can truly last a lifetime.”_

Sure enough, once the full moon passed, Ramsay returned to his normal state. Actually, not his normal state. He looked like he’d lost a quarter of his body mass. His back was strangely hunched. His skin stayed grey and turned scaly. His hands were curled up with crippling arthritis. Only his eyes looked the same and in those eyes there was nothing but torment and pain.

He was kept caged in the Mormont’s barn until Jon healed enough to see to his fate. Sansa led the wolves to the appointed place but chose not to participate in his death. She watched through Lady though and hoped somewhere Maggy knew she’d been avenged.

But Joffrey was _her_ monster, not her first but her worst. No one had suffered at his hands the way she had. She’d pondered more than one tortuous and grisly fate for her first husband in her darker moments.

However, when the time came, Sansa no longer wanted to commit the act. She’d tasted enough blood, her own and the blood of others. She asked Jon to be her sword, metaphorically speaking. That was good enough.

_He knew my pain and terror. He knew why we did it even if he couldn’t completely comprehend how he was at fault. Dead is dead._

The weeks that followed his death passed swiftly as Sansa and Jon worked to make Uncle Benjen’s cabin habitable after sitting empty for years.

Selmy paid his visit and they were prepared for it. She knew how she should act upon being told her husband had been found dead but in the end, she didn’t have to act at all. Her tears came easily. That gentle heart of hers had not died. She could still shed tears for him, monster though he was. She cried for the man he could’ve been and the girl who’d fancied herself in love once upon a time.

“Do you think that’s crazy?” she asked Jon when Selmy was gone. “That I could cry for him?”

“No. It’s your sweet nature that keeps me from slipping into the darkness, remember? I’ll never question it.”

When that was done, they finished packing up the house she’d shared with Joffrey and looked towards their future.

To the folks in Blackwater Bayou, she might always be viewed with skepticism and suspicion by some. There might always be whispers that followed her through town. She decided to adopt Jon’s outlook and not let it bother her overmuch. She liked being liked but she cared more about the people who mattered in her life than the folks who’d turned away and pretended not to see her black eyes and bruises in the past.

They agreed to wait a short period before allowing the true nature of their relationship to become common knowledge. That was as much as she was willing to give for decency’s sake. If Sansa Stark didn’t grieve too long for her dead husband, perhaps some folks would remember he wasn’t worth all that much grieving in the first place. In the meantime, her cousin was taking her back home to her family’s lands to live.

The real estate agent raved over how spotless the house was when Sansa was ready to put it on the market two months after Joffrey’s body was found. She swore the kitchen was the cleanest she’d ever seen. Both Jon and Sansa had to bite their tongues at those words.

By the time winter arrived, they’d settled into their cabin which was really all two people needed though he’d promised to build her a new house before the next winter.

“You know…before we have any little ones.”

“Who’s to say that’s happening so quick?”

“Well, I suppose it’s up to you but I sure aim to do what I can to get you in that condition as quick as you’ll allow.”

“Oh, I might allow one of these days,” she laughed.

He gave her that devilish little smile of his that always made her tummy swoop in the best possible way…just like when they’d been teenagers splashing around in Lonely Lake.

 

* * *

 

 

  
**Three months later**

 

Spring was coming and life in the Bayou carried on. In local news, Barristan Selmy had been elected sheriff in a special election and promised to rid his department of the corruption that had tainted it for so long. No one seemed interested in pointing out that he’d been part of that very same department during the worst of its corruption. Change had to start somewhere, didn’t it? Some folks actually thought he might manage to make a difference…a little bit anyway.

Howland and Jyana Reed were planning a barbeque on the first Saturday in April, following the full moon. The oldest families of the Hollow were invited except that no-account Arnolf Karstark. Along with Jeyne Poole and Sansa’s former co-worker Shae, they’d celebrate the nuptials of Sansa Stark and Jon Snow.

The happy couple had gone to the courthouse just that morning to get their marriage license but the ceremony would be a private affair held on their land, not unheard of for followers of the old gods.

Thus, the night before the Reeds’ party in their honor, Sansa wandered towards the heart tree with only Lady by her side to wait for her intended to come and claim his bride.

He was out patrolling the lands just as he did every full moon. Werewolves weren’t invented by the Boltons after all and there were other sorts of trouble that could crop up in a place like Winter’s Hollow. The blood of the First Men and the magic of the Children of the Forest still lingered in these lands.

But there was time for this tonight anyway.

The full moon awoke that neediness in her blood just as it had every month since they’d been reunited. Sansa had rose from her bed and put on no more than a soft white dressing gown despite the chilly night. The wolf blood was coursing through her, her flesh warm to the touch and her loins aching for her mate.

She carried a quilt in her arms that her mama had made years ago. No pine needles or rocks would poke at them when they laid together and consummated their marriage beneath the tree like the old ones had done.

She softly sang one of the old songs to herself as she made her way through the woods with the moon and stars to guide her.

_“Have you seen my girl_

_Pretty as can be_

_Waiting for me_

_‘Neath the Weirwood tree?_

_There we’re gonna wed_

_Oh, come and see_

_I’ll make that girl my wife_

_‘Neath the Weirwood tree”_

She reached the heart tree and started giggling when he answered with the next verse, his husky voice only slightly off-key.

_“Tell my girl_

_I’ll be a waiting there_

_Waiting ‘neath the tree_

_With a ribbon for her hair.”_

He stopped singing as he emerged from the brush.

“You bring me a pretty ribbon for my hair, Jon Snow?”

He wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing and patted at imaginary pockets. “I seem to have forgotten it.” He stalked towards her, the black pools of his eyes making her shiver. “I don’t have nothing with me for this, I’m afraid.” He took another step. “I like your hair down anyhow. You’re pretty as a picture and I don’t even have on a suit and tie.”

“This is how I want you.”

Another step. “I ain’t got no flowers for you.”

“Flowers wilt. My sweetheart brought me some pretty ones just yesterday.”

“Your sweetheart, huh?” He was grinning. Why’d those grins have to make her weak in the knees like they did?

“Uh huh.”

He stopped right in front of her, the musky scent of him filling her nostrils and feeding her arousal. “I didn’t bring no ring.”

She glanced down at the one she wore. He’d given it to her days and days ago. “You bring a condom even?” she asked as she boldly looked him up and down.

“I’ll fetch one quicker than quick if you say I should.”

“No, I don’t want that now.” That had already been agreed upon.

He gave her a shy, boyish smile as he took her hand. “You ready, sweet one? You gonna be my wife?”

She bit her lip, blushing as she nodded and they knelt. They spoke the words before the heart tree that would make them husband and wife in the eyes of the old gods with Lady watching over them.

Sansa felt a little short of breath once it was done. No fancy dress or stained glass like another wedding she had known. She was glad of it. She’d never needed any of that. She only needed Jon.

“We’ll seal our covenant before the gods.”

“We will,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’ll be your comfort in the darkness, wife.”

“I’ll be your song throughout the day, husband.”

Jon took the quilt she’d brought and spread it carefully on the ground. “I hope you won’t be too cold.”

“My husband will warm me…and I have the wolf blood.”

Sansa slipped off her gown and felt her nipples tighten in the cool night air as Jon’s eyes drank her in. His warm hands rested on her hips and they kissed, slow and sweet at first until they turned passionate and his cock started poking her belly. He gruffly begged her to lay down and quickly dropped to his knees.

Stretched out on the quilt, Sansa stared up at the stars peeping through the branches of the Weirwood that waved in the spring breeze and then glanced at the wolf who had lost interest in them after she’d caught the scent of a hare.

She gazed back at her husband, her lover and her soulmate. A kiss and then another and Jon settled between her legs. She moaned as he pushed his way inside her, easing that ache while simultaneously stirring desire to a fever pitch.

As he began thrusting, she rolled her hips, taking him in deeper with her fingers threaded through his curls. Before long, she was no longer aware of the wind or the stars or the wolf that sat nearby. She cried out in ecstasy just as he spilled his seed and grunted her name.

“You’re mine, sweet one, and I’m yours,” he said after, tenderly kissing her breasts as the sweat started to cool and dry upon their damp, flushed skin.

“Now and always.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Ten years later**

 

The summer afternoon was sticky but the breeze had been pleasant on the wide back porch of the house he’d built Sansa years ago. Jon rocked back and forth on the porch swing watching their children play. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep but after the full moon last night, his eyes felt extra heavy. The sounds of childish laughter was relaxing even as it grew fainter.

He jerked awake, smacked his lips and looked around dazedly for a few seconds. He glanced at his watch and did a double-take. “Shit. Hey, kids! Where are you? We gotta get y’all ready. We’ll be late if we don’t scoot!”

His twin daughters came thundering up to him, wearing their prettiest frocks and matching grins. “We’re ready, Daddy!”

“Mama said we could play a little longer until she finished dressing!”

He tousled Cat’s hair and reminded Maggy to tie her shoes. “Where’s your brother, girls?”

“He’s coming. He’s just down at the creek,” Cat added when her daddy scowled.

It wasn’t more than a rivulet and his children were learning their lands like the back of their hand, same as he had. Still, Robb seemed to get into mischief when he went down to the water’s edge.

“He’s got something to show you,” Maggy said.

“Alright, girls. Go play. Just stay close to the house.”

They bobbed their heads and took off again.

“Daddy, I found a frog down at the creek!” his youngest child announced as he walked out of the woods at a far more sedate pace than usual, completely unconcerned with timetables or important events. “I’m gonna name him Benjen.”

Jon gazed at his boy who was proudly holding up the amphibian in question. All of five, Robb had his mother’s blue eyes and currently looked as if he’d trekked all the way to Lonely Lake and rolled around the mud on the shore there for good measure to find his frog instead of just their backyard.

“Benjen, huh?”

“Yeah. Like my great uncle. You like that name?”

“Sure do.”

“He’s the fattest frog I ever seen.”

He was all of four pounds. “Uh huh. Best not let the Reeds see him.”

“Why, Daddy?”

“No reason,” he chuckled.

Jon silently hoped Sansa wouldn’t be too angry with him for letting the boy get so dirty. He was supposed to be keeping an eye on them instead of napping. The child wouldn’t be fussed at but there was a good chance he’d be held accountable later.

 _Oh, well. I’ll make it up to her in some fashion or anothe_ r, he decided with a mischievous grin. He pulled out a handkerchief and did what he could to wipe the child clean.

Their children were of the wolf blood and, while they were still too young to learn everything that meant, they were being taught some. They were learning about the First Men and being read to out of their great-grandmother’s journal by the fire on cold nights. They were taught about the critters that lived in the woods and which plants and berries were good and which were not. They’d heard all the stories about the stars and started making up their own.

They didn’t ask about their daddy’s scars or his tattoo but Jon knew someday they might. He would not tell them lies though he might wait to tell them the whole truth. They knew the heart tree was a sacred place but they were free to play their childish games there, too. They were only children and childhood should be a time for simple joys.

They knew the wolves that came around their home were special somehow. The grey wolf would drift onto their property fairly often. Their mother called her an old, dear friend. One of these days, the girls would commune with her pups.

The white wolf only appeared when their daddy went camping during the full moon. Those nights, their mama would take them out on the porch before bedtime to see him. _“He’s a good wolf. He watches over us,”_ she’d tell them. One of these years, Robb would go camping with his daddy and see more of that wolf.

Jon went inside, sweat beading his brow, to find his wife standing in their bedroom wearing nothing but her undergarments and staring at the contents of their closet with a dissatisfied look. He was tempted to tell her not to bother dressing since he liked her like that just fine but they had places to be today.

She plucked out a black dress she’d said might come in handy for winter. It would cover her from head to toe. He could already tell she loathed the idea of wearing it today.

“It’s hotter than the sun out there if you ain’t in the shade. Why don’t you wear that pretty flowery one?” It was short-sleeved and fell just above the knee. It had a low neck and was made of some gauzy soft stuff that would help keep her cool. She also looked delectable in it.

“I can’t wear that one. I’m big as a house.”

“You are not.” She smirked at him. “You are not,” he said more firmly.

True, she was around six moons along with her third pregnancy but he refused to listen to her speak ill about her figure because of it. New life was growing inside of her, an everyday sort of miracle in some ways maybe but a miracle all the same.

She started biting at her lip and he knew he was going to win this particular argument. _A rare occurrence_.

He came closer, putting his hands on her hips and giving her his sweetest look. “My wife is beautiful and, while I’ll happily concede it’s all my fault if you can’t wear some things right now, that dress is loose and flowing and you love it.”

Once, his girl had been afraid to wear things like the short-sleeved dress with its low neck, something that might show off the bruises left by some other man. There’d been no bruises like that on his girl in over ten years. There never would be again.

“The floral dress,” she said finally as if she’d come up with the notion.

“A fantastic choice.”

She laughed and started straightening his tie. “You ready for all this hullabaloo today, Jon Stark?”

He always had the most embarrassing urge to puff his chest out when she called him that. They’d gone to the courthouse before the girls had been born and changed his last name. She’d reclaimed her name, refusing to ever be Sansa Baratheon again, and they’d decided to make him a Stark as well.

_“You were always a Stark, Jon. It’s fitting for you to bear the name and for us to pass it down to our children.”_

He’d loved that more than words could say. And if any of the townsfolk were horrified by their unconventional choice, Jon figured they could go fuck themselves.

“Sure am, Mrs. Stark. Ready for them to celebrate all my wife’s hard work.”

For years, this had been Sansa’s dream. She’d gone back to school and finished her degree not long after they’d married. His smart girl had given the valedictorian’s speech and no one had clapped louder than him.

After the girls had been born, she’d set out to make their town a better place, working with the sheriff’s department and local government officials to help the homeless population of Blackwater Bayou.

Change takes time and changing people’s minds and attitudes takes longer but today, the town would open the doors of its first women’s shelter. And if you asked Sansa, Maggy’s Place was just the start.

It was nice knowing that Mr. Tywin’s money was being used to help the less fortunate. Jon hoped he was spinning in his grave at the knowledge.

For himself, Jon found satisfaction in doing what he’d pledged to do years ago in Howland Reed’s den; protecting the people of Winter’s Hollow.

“Did you enjoy your nap?” his wife asked as she slipped on her shoes.

“Oh, well…yeah,” he shrugged and knew she wasn’t near as cross as her expression would lead one to believe. “I figured I better save up my energy for tonight.”

“Tonight? The full moon has passed.”

“Yeah and I’ve not been home with my girl the past two nights.” He waggled his eyebrows and gave her his best sexy grin.

“I have missed my husband something fierce but the kids will be hoping for their daddy to tuck them in.”

“Of course. Then, maybe I’ll give their mama a special sort of tuck in.”

She laughed and shook her head. “I might only be able to comfortably manage one position at this point.”

“I can bring you pleasure in other ways but I wouldn’t complain over that position if it’s the one I’m thinking of. I am a wolf, you know.”

“Yes, I know. You’re _my_ wolf.”

She nipped at his bottom lip, her blue eyes hooded. She was awful hard to resist. He started getting ideas and glanced at his watch again.

“The kids seem pretty happy outside and we don’t technically have to be there until…”

“Come on, Jon,” she said, rolling her eyes and tugging him out of the bedroom by his tie.

“Yes, wife.”

Jon loved his wife and their children with every fiber of his being. Everyone in the Hollow said he was a good man, a loving husband and father. He’d do anything for his family. He’d step in front of a bus for them to keep them safe.

But that darker side of Jon loved them as well. The wolf prowled their lands by night, watching over his sweet ones as they slept. Protect the pack was the very first law, wasn’t it? They were his pack.

That part of Jon would kill for them if necessary, without hesitation and without remorse. Anyone who crossed his path would be best to remember it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had so much fun writing this Dark Jon tale. Just like missing my Vampire Jon inspired me to write this one, it's a safe bet thinking of my backwoods Shapeshifter Jon with his off-kilter moral compass may inspire something else someday. An enormous thank you to Natalie who has been a big help with this story and so supportive from its inception! 
> 
> Thanks so much to all of you who've kudo'd, bookmarked, subscribed and commented! If you enjoyed it, I'd love to hear from you :)


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